[b]Lauren Fox
We all think we’re snowflakes, but we’re Tinker Toys, held together by our interchangeable parts.[/b]
Let’s not go there.
And here’s something else I learned: you lose some people that way—fast and blinding. But some people inch away from you slowly, in barely discernible steps. In the end it almost doesn’t matter. They’re just as gone.
In the interim though, it still matters a lot. Depends on who you lose, I’m guessing.
It’s amazing, really, the things two people think they know about each other.
Next up: all that they can never know.
This is the truth: You lose some things because you didn’t see the darkness rushing toward you. Some things disappear because it all snuck up on you so quickly and quietly, and you weren’t paying attention. Okay. But once in a while a loss is preventable. You can stop it. And if you don’t, you are to blame. The trick is knowing which is which.
No, for some things, the trick is knowing why you’d want to stop it.
Death smashes a crater into your life, and you’re left alone to sort through the rubble.
Then you die. Creating more or less rubble for others.
Can you love a work of art if the person who produced it was truly awful?
And not just Adolph Hitler.