Sentimental Sunday: Happy Birthday, Mark! (tomorrow) - Made this photo book for my sweetie's birthday tomorrow with Shutterfly: © Amanda Pape - 2015 - click here to e-mail me.
3 days ago
Recording the Reading
But now, in the country's last hour, it was clear...that the cease-fire had provided the delusion of normalcy, but never peace. When your fight has purpose--to free you from something, to interfere on the behalf of an innocent--it has a hope of finality. When the fight is about unraveling--when it is about your name, the places to which your blood is anchored, the attachment of your name to some landmark or event--there is nothing but hate, and the long, slow progression of people who feed on it and are fed it, meticulously, by the ones who come before them. Then the fight is endless, and comes in waves and waves, but always retains its capacity to surprise those who hope against it.
My mother always says that fear and pain are immediate, and that, when they're gone, we're left with the concept, but not the true memory--why else, she reasons, would anyone give birth more than once?
...the apothecary learned to read white lies, to distinguish furtive glances between secret lovers that would precipitate future weddings, to harness old family hatreds dredged up in fireside conversations that allowed him to foresee conflicts, fights, sometime even murders. He learned, too, that when confounded by the extremes of life--whether good or bad--people would turn first to superstition to find meaning, to stitch together unconnected events in order to understand what was happening. He learned that, no matter how grave the secret, how imperative absolute silence, someone would always feel the urge to confess, and an unleashed secret was a terrible force.