The scene in which I confess to them is invented, imagined. And, in fact, could never have happened… .because Robbie Turner died of septicaemia at Bray Dunes on the first of June 1940, the last day of the evacuation…and I was never able to put things right with my sister Cecilia….because she was killed on the 15th of October 1940 by the bomb that destroyed the gas and water mains above Balham tube station.
Perhaps this is what it means to go mad: to be emptied and to be aware of the emptiness.
"I am on the floor every day with those kids. And last night, that girl sat next to me and she cried and she tried to tell me the only way that she knew how."
Waking up begins with saying am and now. For the past eight months waking up has actually hurt. The cold realization that I am still here slowly sets in.
(Source: djsmigill, via caryjojifukunaga)