...crushed between the fears of going forward and the dread of going back.
Jim CraceThese are the stories that we tell ourselves and only ourselves, and they are better left unshared.
Jim CraceThere's solace in the thought that I will never finish missing her.
Jim CraceTag: loss missing-someone
The mood has changed. It's heavier. We were liquid; now we're stones.
Jim CraceThe dead leaves fly. They're cropped and gathered to the rich barn of the earth.
Jim CraceI think I'd like her to turn round. I want to see her face a second time. That first time she was hardly visible. She was little more than dark on dark, a body shape, as I remember it. If only she would spin round on her heels and the moonlight would oblige, I could persuade myself she's real and not a spectre summoned up by loneliness.
Jim CraceI am excused, I think, for wondering if I am the only one alive this afternoon with no other living soul who wants to cling to me, no other soul who'll let me dampen her. The day has ended and the light has snuffed. I'm left to trudge into the final evening with nobody to loop their soaking hands through mine.
Jim CraceThere's not a season set aside for pondering and reveries. It will not les us hesitate or rest; it does not wish us to stand back and comment on its comeliness or devise a song for it. It has no time to listen to our song. It only asks us not to tire in our hard work. It wants to see us leathery, our necks and fore-arms burnt as black as chimney oak; it wants to leave us thinned and sinewy from work. It taxes us from dawn to dusk, and torments us at night; that is the taxing that the thrush complains about. Our great task each and every year is to defend ourselves against hunger and defeat with implements and tools.
Jim CraceSecrets are like pregnancies hereabouts. You can hide them for a while but then they will start screaming.
Jim CraceAnd it seems I ought to scatter too. Perhaps at once. It's always better to turn your back on the gale than press your face against it.
Jim CracePagina 1 di 2.
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