But Now These Bees Are Flying around Us, and I understand what they want to tell me with their murmur: Come-come-come-come, come quickly, come quickly, run. And I know that he sent them to guide me to him. Now I hear, too: it’s a little child’s sigh coming from inside me. I search inside myself, deep inside, and I find the boy that I was. He didn’t disappear with the years, as I’d believed. He was waiting for me, and he spoke to me like Simonopio did: protected in the depths of my memories, silent sometimes, but patient, waiting to be invited out.
