Why had he not always found life so disturbing and so poignant?
He strode forward, as if trampling his doubts underfoot.
We’re going to make this thing happen.
I’m ready either way.
Don’t worry, old man, we’ll find a way.
Nothing was right; nothing could cure her restlessness.
He was going to have to escape alone.
She had just walked away and never faltered.
Do we have a reliable driver?
Why, I don’t know what you mean.
Have I been to this place before?
Never apologise and never explain.
Where would we like to go?
I can do what I bloody well like!
We will have dreams but will they come true?
The past must not mortgage the future.
But what is it that’s forgiven?
Time is reversible.
That which is lost is found.
What is memory but a rope slung across time?
Neither of them could move towards the other.
Time can’t unhappen but it can be unlost. Can it?
Now it’s started we’d better finish it.
Not the past, not the future, this now.
In the small space they occupy their own time is real.
Life can’t unhappen.
The past was always in front of him like a river he couldn’t cross.
These nothings are nothing.
That’s what happens as you get older; everything is a long time ago.
I have to do this part by myself.
Gone Fishin’ Part Two
Gone Fishin’
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