This is not Penelope’s heart breaking. She has woven so much rope around her heart, tied it and tied it and tied it shut, that though it shatters, yet it cannot fall apart. Not yet. This is not the sound of her world falling apart, for every morning she stands upon Ithaca’s soil and says to herself, I am here, and I will do what is done. The world does not tumble away from you when you have spent so much time learning to walk upon it.
