My whole life, Henry said, I’ve felt as though I were missing something, that happiness assigned to me existed always at a distance, somewhere, in some place that was somehow beyond me – and when I moved, it too moved, always away but never so far as not to haunt me with the feeling of what it might be like to be happy.
But with you, he said, turning to George and Rebecca, I feel as though I am leading the charge toward death. Happiness and I have swapped places and now it’s pursuing me for its very existence.
No matter what happens from this moment on, Henry announced, here in this place, I will always have my defining moment of victory against sadness.
Simon van Booy in Everything Beautiful Began After
“No words are adequate for the suffering caused by hunger. To this day I have to show hunger that I escaped his grasp. Ever since I stopped having to go hungry, I literally eat life itself. And when I eat, I am locked up inside the taste of eating. For sixty years, ever since I came back from the camp, I have been eating against starvation.”
Could it be as simple as that? Could love be not grand gestures or empty vows, not promises meant to be broken, but instead a paper trail of forgiveness? A line of crumbs made of memories, to lead you back to the person who was waiting?