The house closed back up. You will no longer see their gazes gathered around the same fires. That's it.
Only I still exist with this knowledge.
What does it mean to know or not know something?
Which lesson from that knowing can untangle what is happening to me, face-to-face with this void that rises before my eyes in ever more immense waves, in ever more devouring clarity?
Marguerite Duras, The Easy Life













