"all children are born with wings," she had whispered. "it's just that the world is full of people who try to tear them off. unfortunately they succeed with almost everyone, sooner or later. only a few children escape. but those children? they rise up to the skies!"
you know this story, bartholomew, though you do not remember it. i’ll tell it to you as best as i can and promise to be honest in my talebearing. if i’m not, that’s hardly my fault. to tell a story is in some part to tell a lie, isn’t it?
i just wanted to write to tell you that i have been happy during these months together, that i have never been so happy, and that i already know i will never be so happy again.