A Fear Paul Had Transformed

Writing Is Always A Process Of Discovery—i Never Know The End, Or Even The Events On The Next Page, Until They Happen. There’s A Constant Interplay Between The Imagining And Shaping Of The Story.

That There Were Other Worlds, Invisible, Unknown, Beyond Imagination Even, Was A Revelation To Him.

Twin Threads Ran Through Her: Fear And Excitement.

He Carried Paul Inside And Up The Stairs. He Gave Him A Drink Of Water And The Orange Chewable Aspirin He Like And Sat With Him On The Bed, Holding His Hand...this Was What He Yearned To Capture On Film: These Rare Moments Where The World Seemed Unified, Coherent, Everything Contained In A Single Fleeting Image. A Spareness That Held Beauty And Hope And Motion - A Kind Of Silvery Poetry, Just As The Body Was Poetry In Blood And Flesh And Bone.

Her Voice, High And Clear, Moved Through The Leaves, Through The Sunlight. It Splashed Onto The Gravel, The Grass. He Imagined The Notes Falling Into The Air Like Stones Into Water, Rippling The Invisible Surface Of The World. Waves Of Sound, Waves Of Light: His Father Had Tried To Pin Everything Down, But The World Was Fluid And Could Not Be Contained.