But if you say, Once—once and only once, because dates are as bad as names for stories—a man loved the ground so much he ate a mountain and it killed him but it killed the mountain too, people will learn from the story without truth getting in the way. They’ll learn that to love something is to open wide and hope what you love is digestible. They’ll learn that if you love so much you consume the thing you love whole, neither of you will survive and neither will your love. They’ll learn not to eat fucking rocks.
