Clare, it was beyond telling, to come as though from death to hold you, and to see the years all present in your face. I won't tell you anymore, so you can imagine it, so you can have it unrehearsed when the time comes, as it will, as it does come. We will see each other again, Clare. Until then, live, fully, present in the world, which is so beautiful. It's dark, now, and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
Love, Henry
-
Love, Henry
-
Books have this thing about making English powerful for a few days, then it slips away 'cos words are forgotten. I get so absorbed sometimes pulling the stories out into life. Then again, stories are from life.