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An ending and a beginning now knotted up for ever.
I’ve kind of got used to being on my own. Putting all that on hold for a while. A while that is turning into an inadvertent lifestyle choice.
‘Everyone has secrets, Lou,’ she says. ‘Everyone should be allowed their secrets. You can never know everything about a person. You’d go mad trying to.’
You learn little tells in a long marriage.
Silver linings and all that.
The grime and grit of bare walls is in some ways more honest about the soul of a house.
‘Don’t take it personally. You know what men are like. They’re all grumpy babies at heart.’ She leans in. ‘Especially the posh spoilt ones.’
Fear is no barrier to violence,
The dreams don’t really bother me, I like them sometimes in a twisted way. They make me feel more alive than I do in my real life.
nothing is ever that clear cut, is it?
I’m always wondering,
It’s strange how different we all appear to who we really are.
The past is as ephemeral as the future – it’s all perspective and smoke and mirrors. You can’t pin it down, can you? Let’s say two people experience exactly the same thing – ask them to recount the event later and, although their versions might be similar, there will always be differences. The truth is different to different people.
No one knows. No one was ever going to know. So in many ways, as no one knows, then it never even really happened. If a tree falls in the woods and no one’s around to hear it, blah, blah, blah.
To trust the truth of a thing, you have to suffer the thing. You have to get mud on your hands and dirt under your fingernails. You have to dig for it.
‘There’s no right and wrong with feelings. There is only what there is.’
Truth often came down to what is the most believable version of events.
‘Lies and truths are only perspectives.
