Ramy, smiling. Ramy, reaching.
‘It can’t be easy,’ she said to Robin one day. ‘You and him.’
Robin, who thought at first she was talking about Ramy, stiffened. ‘I don’t – how do you mean?’
‘I don’t understand – Ramy, what did I do wrong?’
Victoire sighed and glanced out over the water. Ramy gave him a hard glare, and then burst out, ‘Why didn’t you just ask me?’
‘Don’t you know why?
Their eyes met. Robin felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The space between them felt very charged, like the moment between lightning and thunder, and Robin had no idea what was going on or what would happen next, only that it all felt very strange and terrifying, like teetering over the edge of a windy, roaring cliff.
📓|Study on homoeroticism|📓
‘That’s just what translation is, I think. That’s all speaking is. Listening to the other and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they’re trying to say. Showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands.’
