Direction, like time, is a general thing, the deprived of boundaries and borders. It is an endless process interception and reinterception, doubling back and adjusting.

For the first time in my life I've done something for me and by choice and not because somebody told me it was good or bad.

But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic.

I need to live my life in the light of their deaths. I need to live.

But the guilt goes even deeper than that. It, too, is dust: Layers and layers of it have accumulated. Because if it weren’t for me, Lena and Alex would never have been caught at all. I told on them. I was jealous. God forgive me, for I have sinned.

The thing is, you don't get to know. It's not like you wake up with a bad feeling in your stomach. You don't see shadows where there shouldn't be any. You don't remember to tell your parents you love them or--in my case--remember to say good-bye to them at all.

This is what we are made for: promises, pledges, and sworn oaths of obedience.