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In the midst of evil you want to be a good man. You want decency. You want justice and courtesy and human concord, things you never knew you wanted. There is a kind of largeness to it, a kind of godliness.
“You want to trade places with him? Turn it all upside down—you want that? I mean, be honest.”
Now one eye was a star.
He knew he would fall dead and wake up in the stories of his village and people.
One eye was shut. The other was a star-shaped hole.
I know my own eyes—and there is no doubt that the Timmy smiling at the camera is the Tim I am now. Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging. The human life is all one thing, like a blade tracing loops on ice: a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow.
