“The isle is full of noises.”
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
The thought, would she like me if I weren’t me, is an impossible thought. It folds in upon itself.
But what I mean is would she like me if the same body and soul were transported into a different life, a lesser life?
But then, of course, I wouldn’t be me. I would be someone else.
The past is a snare that has already caught you. A nightmare, Dedalus said, from which I am trying to awake.
And then the most recent entry: “This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.”
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
She noted, more than once, that the meteor shower was happening, beyond the overcast sky, even if we could not see it.
Who cares if she can kiss? She can see through the clouds.
It was only after reading every journal entry that I noticed the ones about me began with quotes from The Tempest.
I felt like I was invading his privacy, but it was a public blog,
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