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comfortable in his own skin to a fault, and it made him generous to others. He had nothing to prove.
“I was someone who had to grow into love. Not that I had to grow to love you. I always loved you, but I didn’t know how to love you, so what you got was the equivalent of an attempt at a work of art from someone who didn’t know how to draw. I said the words, but we both know often they were hollow. At times it was the very absence of you that shaped me. But that’s what it is, isn’t it? Both the presence and the absence of a person. The sum of it all. As a result, I feel it more deeply now. Love. My love for you.”
“Thinking and wanting are not the same thing, my clever poppet. Wanting comes from your heart, not your head.”
music was always the door to where they could go next.
Guitars are mysterious things, Lara. The strings hold things; so does the instrument. The man who owned that guitar—well, his energy is still in that instrument. I only want to try to honor it.”
Émile’s friends, so wrapped up in their own conversations, haven’t seen the shift that has occurred around them, but I fear this special place is coming to an end. I can almost smell it around me, like that most fragrant scent of the ripest fruit just before it begins to rot.
