Memory Is A Cruel Mistress

Had Any Poet Adequately Described The Wretched Ugliness Of A Loved One Turned Inside Out With Grief?

The Certainty That She Would Find What It Was She Sought Just Slipped Away, Until One Night She Knew There Was Nothing, No One Waiting For Her. That No Matter How Far She Walked, How Carefully She Searched, How Much She Wanted To Find The Person She Was Looking For, She Was Alone" - The Forgotten Garden

The Girl In The Mirror Caught My Eye Briefly...it Is An Uncanny Feeling, That Rare Occasion When One Catches A Glimpse Of Oneself In Repose. An Unguarded Moment, Stripped Of Artifice, When One Forgets To Fool Even Oneself.

Percy Climbed The First Step, Then The Next, Remembering The Thousands Of Times She'd Run Through The Door, In A Hurry To Get To The Future, To Whatever Was Coming Next, To This Moment.

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.