Somewhere on that cliffside in Torridon, he’d accepted the fact that he adored—senselessly—complicated, extraordinary people. People who were exceptionally hard on everyone, but most of all themselves. He liked the striving in their mistakes, the messiness of their attention, the unvarnished surprises revealed by the way they approached everyday life. Clark loved the fierce way they loved him: like they wanted to protect him even when they couldn’t. “We all hurt the ones we love,” he said, softly, pointedly. “It’s why we must learn to make amends.”
