The Fury

by Alex Michaelides

Agathi’s grandmother used to call the Aegean wind to menos, which means “the fury” in English.

do not despair at being different. For that very difference, initially such a source of shame, so humiliating, and painful, will one day become a badge of honor and pride.

Now, I know only this for sure—the first half of life is pure selfishness; the second half, all grief.

The real tragedy is, of course, by always looking outward, by focusing so intently on the other person’s experience, we lose touch with our own. It’s as if we live our entire life pretending to be ourselves, as impostors impersonating ourselves, rather than feeling this is really me, this is who I am.

That’s why, these days, I repeatedly force myself to return to my own experience: not are they enjoying themselves? But am I? Not do they like me? But do I like them?

God knows, we spend our whole lives not being heard.

“When we are young,” Mariana said, “and afraid—when we are shamed, and humiliated—something happens. Time stops. It freezes, in that moment. A version of us is trapped, at that age—forever.”

“Trapped where?” asked Liz, one of the group. “Trapped here.” Mariana tapped the side of her head. “A frightened child is hiding in your mind—still unsafe; still unheard and unloved. And the sooner you get in touch with that child and learn to communicate with them, the more harmonious your life will be.”

Character is fate. Remember that, for later.

Something had attracted her attention. What was it? The smell, or that sound?

He’d do anything to prevent it.

Both theater and reality, said Mr. Levy, came down to just three words—motivation; intention; and goal

“Our motivation is to remove pain

I would protect Lana, cherish her, love her. I’d never betray her. I’d never let her down.

“I believe the more you love a man, / The more you give your trust / The more you’re bound to lose.”

In a way, it was Art. I really believed that.