How close people could be to us when they had gone as far away as possible, to the edges of the map. How unforgettable.
“What was it that drew you?” I asked him.
“About Kenya? Nearly everything. I think I’d always been looking for an escape route.”
“Escape from what?”
“I don’t know. Any tight-fitting definition of what a life should be, I suppose. Or what I should be in it.”
I smiled. “Should isn’t a word that suits you, is it?”
“Worked that one out already, did you?”
There are things we find only at our lowest depths. The idea of wings and then wings themselves. An ocean worth crossing one dark mile at a time. The whole of the sky. And whatever suffering has come is the necessary cost of such wonders, as Karen once said, the beautiful thrashing we do when we live.