I Am Interested In Silences

I'm Starting To Think My Narrators' Sentences Are Getting Too Big For Them, And They Are Getting To Sound A Bit Samey And, More Disturbingly, A Bit Too Much Like Me.

We Do Not Always Like The People We Love- We Do Not Always Have That Choice.

There Are So Few People Given Us To Love. I Want To Tell My Daughters This, That Each Time You Fall In Love It Is Important, Even At Nineteen. Especially At Nineteen. And If You Can, At Nineteen, Count The People You Love On One Hand, You Will Not, At Forty, Have Run Out Of Fingers On The Other. There Are So Few People Given Us To Love And They All Stick.

And What Amazes Me As I Hit The Motorway Is Not The Fact That Everyone Loses Someone, But That Everyone Loves Someone. It Seems Like Such A Massive Waste Of Energy -- And We All Do It, All The People Beetling Along Between The White Lines, Merging, Converging, Overtaking. We Each Love Someone, Even Though They Will Die. And We Keep Loving Them, Even When They Are Not There To Love Any More. And There Is No Logic Or Use To Any Of This, That I Can See.

Remember, If You Sit At Your Desk For 15 Or 20 Years, Every Day, Not Counting Weekends, It Changes You. It Just Does. It May Not Improve Your Temper, But It Fixes Something Else. It Makes You More Free.