Ulysses said that time ran backward for him whenever he came here. That’s how he described it, anyway. From the moment Darnley fell. Rushing him to a field hospital in Ancona, two others injured in the back, driving one-handed, the other hand pressed against the wound. Eddying time, Evelyn. Churches, frescoes. Sicily. That first handshake in the desert. All those moments, those years, were his now. To remember or to forget. That’s what Ulysses said. So I choose to remember. The best man ever. And everything about him is vivid. And he is young. And he is laughing.
