Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.

At the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books.

We sat on the bank and the river went by. As always, it was making sounds to itself, and now it made sounds to us. It would be hard to find three men sitting side by side who knew better what a river was saying.

I am haunted by waters.

A river, though, has so many things to say that it is hard to know what it says to each of us.

At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear. It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us. You can love completely without complete understanding.

Probably most catastrophes end this way without an ending, the dead not even knowing how they died...,those who loved them forever questioning "this unnecessary death," and the rest of us tiring of this inconsolable catastrophe and turning to the next one.