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Inside, the lobby smelled of layers of bureaucracy, built up over years of casual disregard for logic and ease of function,
“Sometimes the mark of prejudice settles in the eyes of those with limited vision, much like cataracts,” she replied.
But even Yvette knew the real reason monuments were built was to outshine and outlast the bodies of the men who built them.
Yvette might wear her scar on her face for all to see, but others carried them deep inside, where only their bearers knew the damage done.
“The transformation, the struggle between light and dark, that is what propels life forward. That metamorphosis is one’s purpose for existing.”
“It can feel like one is trapped or been sent into the murky water never to swim free,” he added, “but there is a place to rise and see clearly again.”
One must learn to sway the influence instead, as if maneuvering on the wind, to truly transition between past and future, the born self and the created self.”
“Was it prophesied somewhere that all must suffer the agony of uncertainty before finding their way to safe harbor?”
“Some men are born with the seed for cruelty in their hearts,” she said. “It only grows with the passing of time, the roots reaching out to ensnare every part of their soul. But one can’t always tell the extent a man’s heart has been compromised until after they’ve been hopelessly trapped within his grip.”
“There’s a certain vulgarity in assigning worth to any individual life when each represents a piece in the mosaic of the whole.”
The perfect mix of magic and mortal genius, reminding her of the complex tension between the born self and the created self and the trick of finding one’s balance.
