Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.
I felt like I had proof that not all days are the same length, not all time has the same weight. Proof that there are worlds and worlds and worlds on top of worlds, if you want them to be there.
That’s the secret. If you always make sure you’re exactly the person you hoped to be, if you always make sure you know only the very best people, then you won’t care if you die tomorrow.
I knew the way lost hopes could be dangerous, how they could turn a person into someone they never thought they’d be.
Because maybe I don’t want to leave the planet invisible. Maybe I need at least one person to remember something about me.
The sun kept on with its slipping away, and I thought how many small good things in the world might be resting on the shoulders of something terrible.
I used to think maybe I wanted to become a falconer, and now I’m sure of it, because I need to figure out the secret. I need to work out how to keep things flying back to me instead of always flying away.
I thought it was good to test yourself sometimes. It was good to see how much you could take.
Then we left, just me running with my sister, the wolves at our backs.
It’s the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven’t done everything they want to do. They think they haven’t had enough time. They feel they’ve been shortchanged.
I suppose I’m in that very small group of people who are not waiting for their own story to unfold. If my life was a film, I’d have walked out by now.
Finn said art isn’t about drawing or painting a perfect bowl of fruit. It’s about ideas. And you, he said, have enough good ideas to last a lifetime.
There’s just something beautiful about walking on snow that nobody else has walked on. It makes you believe you’re special.