The Next Chapter
And you know what’s the worst thing of all, Olanda? You know? That it seems to a person that he knows how to love. He, alone in all the universe, best understands love.
I’ll say it to you anyway. I love you. I say it to you all the time. I’ve fallen in love with you, because we’re cut from the same cloth. I’m cut from yours, and you’re cut from mine. I admit to my humanity, even though I really know that I’m not a man at all. And I can allow myself the luxury of saying this, because I was born of a suitcase which my father toted about with him from pub to pub, with which he returned home as one returns to a place where there is food.
Ah, you can’t win, you simply can’t win against the truth; that is to say, with the necessity that things supernatural really exist. And h
