That’s how I remember our friendship. We passed our stories back and forth until they merged. And with each pass, we lightened our own burden….
What mattered most was that memory was stripped of bitterness and retold with joy. And once it took root, it grew bigger, this story of how things had been. It was a voice speaking through us, inexhaustible, it seemed, past resentment and sorrow. Past all that could not be resurrected.
from Walking On The Ceiling Aysegul Savas