Lacking a charged iPod yesterday, I saved ten or so pages to read on the plane and ended up reading this yesterday while I was on my flight(s) home.
“There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t remember and that she can’t even let herself think about because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle.
You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sing, and a voice that might be hers will say something you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.
Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.
Whenever it rains you will think of her.”
I think that is one of the most gut wrenching, beautiful things I have read of late. And, in this cold and rainy weather I’m having today in Germany, looks like tonight is going to be a night of writing…