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It is not history. But I am beginning to wonder strongly what is the nature of history. Is it only memory in decent sentences, and if so, how reliable is it? I would suggest, not very. And that therefore most truth and fact offered by these syntactical means is treacherous and unreliable. And yet I recognise that we live our lives, and even keep our sanity, by the lights of this treachery and this unreliability, just as we build our love of country on these paper worlds of misapprehension and untruth. Perhaps this is our nature, and perhaps unaccountably it is part of our glory as a creature, that we can build our best and most permanent buildings on foundations of utter dust. ↗
The divorce papers remained unopened in the crisp yellow envelope. He had thrown it on his desk without a backward glance. Between his lashes, his dark chocolate eyes burned with fury but there was something else in the depths that she hadn’t seen in a long time, passion. ↗
I love you, Vic! Anything else is lies. I really, truly love you. I’ll love you until the day I die. ↗
Is Dust immortal then, I ask'd him, so that we may see it blowing through the Centuries? But as Walter gave no Answer I jested with him further to break his Melancholy humour: What is Dust, Master Pyne? And he reflected a little: It is particles of Matter, no doubt. Then we are all Dust indeed, are we not? And in a feigned Voice he murmered, For Dust thou art and shalt to Dust return. Then he made a Sour face, but only yo laugh the more. ↗
Blair instantly took the lead, showing his experience of being able to duck out of the limelight. He passed the huge oven and looked back to see if Shawn was keeping up with him; he turned back around and then picked up speed as he entered a darkened corridor. A loud crash and two heavy screams stopped Shawn in his tracks and caused Mr. Bernstein to run up his back. Time slowed as Mortie started to walk around a flash-frozen Shawn; in the darkness, a confused Blair was knocked senseless on his fanny by a person that was putting some garbage in the dumpster in the alley behind the store. Shawn extended his right arm into Bernstein’s chest so he could get a clear look. Blair rubbed his head and said, “Are you all right, buddy?” sure that the person he collided with was a man. He slowly got to his feet and then extended a hand to the fallen bagel worker. Shawn focused all of his energy on the pick up; their two forms were still sunken in the shadows but Shawn could feel a huge swirl of energy start to mount. Blair knew the moment their hands clasped that the soft, long fingers were not that of a dude. As Blair brought the woman to her feet, the subsequent explosion generated by a 12-bagger hurled a startled Shawn back toward the front door. ↗
A smile curled the corner of Xavier’s mouth. “You didn’t think I would let her walk out of my arms without knowing I would see her again soon, did you?” Bryant shrugged. “Well, no. I guess not. What are you going to do now?” The lid of the case slammed shut, and Xavier jerked his vibrating phone back out of his pocket. “Well, as soon as I get these fires extinguished, I’m going to go start one with her.” Bryant laughed. “After this long, that’ll be one hell of a raging inferno.” “I hope so. ↗
