Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment is as slow and transparent as a glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?
- From the Prologue of The Time Traveller’s Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger
Friday, March 19, 2010
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words left unspoken.