Fragile Things

I think...I would rather recollect a life misspent on fragile things than spent avoiding moral debt.

I believe we owe it to each other to tell stories. It’s as close to a credo as I have or will, I suspect, ever get.

In every way that counted, I was dead. Inside somewhere maybe I was screaming and weeping and howling like an animal, but that was another person deep inside, another person who had no access to the face and lips and mouth and head, so on the surface I just shrugged and smiled and kept moving.

“It can’t make things any worse.”

“If there’s one thing that a study of history has taught us, it is that things can always get worse,” said my friend.