In Each Man's Heart There

Children Don’t Require Of Their Parents A Past And They Find Something Faintly Unbelievable, Almost Embarrassing, In Parental Claims To A Prior Existence.

It Was The Sibling Thing, I Suppose. I Was Fascinated By The Intricate Tangle Of Love And Duty And Resentment That Tied Them Together. The Glances They Exchanged; The Complicated Balance Of Power Established Over Decades; The Games I Would Never Play With Rules I Would Never Fully Understand. And Perhaps That Was Key: They Were Such A Natural Group That They Made Me Feel Remarkably Singular By Comparison. To Watch Them Together Was To Know Strongly, Painfully, All That I'd Been Missing.

There’s Something About Hospital Walls; Though Only Made Of Bricks And Plaster, When You’re Inside Them The Noise, The Reality Of The Teeming City Beyond, Disappears; It’s Just Outside The Door, But It Might As Well Be A Magical Land Far, Far Away.

They Say Everyone Needs Something To Love.

A Way Of Looking At You That Told You She Was Listening, That She Understood All You Were Saying, And All You Weren't.