onaperduamedee:River and lust for life:When I thinkof River I feel a dull ache because I think of Me
onaperduamedee:River and lust for life:When I thinkof River I feel a dull ache because I think of Melody dying alone without acare, of Mels growing up with rage and deaths wishes, of River and her memory gutted like a war-torn city. Because I thinkof soldiers, fanaticism, hatred and a child in the middle. Because I think of aterrible loneliness that comes from being chosen, special, different, criminal,imprisoned, insane, nothing. But when Ithink of River I also feel an irrepressible joy. Like the smile superimposed inthe ghostly light of her helmet the very first time I glimpsed at her face inthe Library. I hear a throaty laughter, a teasing quip, an assured tone, adance, a waltz, many waltzes, an exciting tattoo of clicking heels, explosions,beeping dashboards and ancient dirges. I feel sung to, treated to a tale frombetween Scrooge-McDuck-imprinted sheets and plushies. I learn little girls are made ofstuff as only fortresses are made on, with the cold corridors, labyrinthinedampness and besieged loneliness it begs. And old girls are made of what’s leftof little girls, with all the vision, delight and impatience it can muster. I love thefun River has with her life, like one would have white wine with goat cheese.Fun goes well with life. Perhaps not happiness because it would require equilibrium,wholeness, peace River cannot recover or rebuild, but certainly joie de vivre. And that’s enough to fuel a life. To blaze. Throughlosses, we make compromises to keep on living. We accommodate ourselves tounhappiness, for life. River always left me with the impression the compromiseswere made to keep on enjoying. -- source link
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