A play
Sunday July 31st 2016, 11:13 pm
Filed under: change,himself,magic Tags:

Not a book. And a typo on p 258 – “there are things that death cannot touch. Paint…and memory….and love.” Who knew paint was so powerful?

But the words are, however juvenile, however past the selves who read the books, first with other smalls, then alone, and someday again with him. I want him to know this feeling, of being deep inside yourself, ranging across past and present, making connections between things that didn’t seem to be connected. Feeling fragmented and whole, exhausted and awake. A book, finished. Because that’s what you do.