to paradise bot
@toparadisebot
all the way to paradise
He had come into the habit, before dinner, of taking a walk around the park:
The fact that he had not experienced the same kind of happiness was a source of both sorrow and concern; of late, he had been beginning to fear that it was not just that no one might love him but that he might be incapable of receiving such love, which seemed altogether worse.
his entire life, for as long as he could remember, he too had been hoping for that sense of contentment, of security they possessed, only to have it elude him year after year.
They were, he knew, ways for him to escape himself, and yet he had not invented these methods; they had been invented for him, and he was at their mercy, they made his body move either too quickly or not all.
"It is a new opportunity for you, a new life, a chance to begin again."
its walls not just holding out the terrors of the world but holding together his very self.
lately, he had been wondering whether his betrayal was deliberate or whether it was attributable to something deficient within him, some fundamental coldness.
the yards and arteries that connected all three of their forms, filling them with life.
as if lifee was something that David wasn't experiencing but was, rather, having bestowed upon him.
he was at last experiencing the sort of transformation that love had visited on everyone he knew but that had always eluded him.
Normally, I catch the 18:00 shuttle home, which drops me off at Eighth Street and Fifth Avenue somewhere between 18:30 and 18:40, depending on disruptions, but today I knew there was going to be a Ceremony, so I asked Dr. Morgan if I could leave early.
But in the end, they were both dependents, disappointed by their past and frightened by their present.
If it wasn't quite the end of things, then it was close—
Yet he knew that it would never be enough, that he had stained himself, and that the stain was irreversible.
something that had almost happened, but that he, through not recognizing it, had kept at bay.
He was a chair, a clock, a scarf draped over the back of the settee, something the eye had registered so many times that it now glided over it, its presence so familiar that it had already been drawn and pasted into the scene before the curtain rose.
Here was New York, and everything he knew. There, with Edward, was someplace else, someplace he had never before been but, he could recognize, he had been searching for his entire life.
as if lifee was something that David wasn't experiencing but was, rather, having bestowed upon him.