"My passion for her, even though she could never return it, showed me the difference between inventing a lover & falling in love. The one is about you. The other is about someone else." -Jeanette Winterson
He is quiet and I am unable to gauge whether he laughs at himself in true amusement or out of complete frustration. I've watched him try to recruit the muscles of his thumb over and over again. In my head I am Keats chanting over and over again an ode to extensor pollicis longus. I look for movement- any movement- as his fingers crash into small plastic shapes, unable to extend, grip, and hold.
"What do you think?" I ask him.
"I don't know what I think but I learned that I cannot pick up triangles."
1 comment:
oh Jenny. fantastic.
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