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Sonora Quote of the day
One day you look in the mirror and you see your parents' sadness in your eyes.
I lit a cigarette. 'Go ahead, take a smoke, ' my father said. 'It won't kill you. Only sadness will.
I saw Sonora before me, so otherworldly, so desolate, some cast-out mistress on the pale blue planet, and longed suddenly to stay.
When you are rich, your past disappears. You get everything you want when you want it . . . Everyone wants to know you. Everyone wants to be your friend.
I loved the abandoned subway stations, rushing past the darkened platforms, the sprawl of graffiti like old letters. Letters left by ghosts.
You know the most common phrase in the movies is 'let's get out of here?
I inherited this longing. I was addicted to it. And so I was at home with those who wanted and never had enough. I was at home in the places that could never be. The places found only in dreams.
We remained talking, fighting gently or viciously for what seemed like hours, but it was only minutes or perhaps a second, because it was only a dream.
I first understood why Christians prayed for a savior in the form of a beautiful man. He had absolved me of the blue-streaked blond.
It was all so foolish then, as it is now, as it is forever. To be in love with beauty. To try to hold on to it.
I knew beauty for me would only ever be derived from loss.
Nightmares always recur, but never our most beautiful dreams.
There is the body of history ever atop of us, and the body of memory rustling within us. Between the two, we are crushed.
I look out at the reservation, still and glittering with casinos, and think of all the death dried up and buried in its dirt.
My father insisted I eat red meat. 'You'll lose your brain without food, ' he said. A meal to him without beef was starvation.
New York was always so beautiful in the very crux of parting with it.
I have forgiven Sonora. I have forgiven New York, forsaken the recursion of history. But I do not yet know how to forgive myself.
Find someone who loves you more than you love them.
Like hunting for a dead beloved's face among the living, in places, we find the place we loved before.
I understood it in my bones. Longing made the music bigger.
With this man I will never want. With this man I will never be sad again.
I remember wanting to flee her, and being unable to flee her, so in need of her and half hating her for it, and I still am nauseous from it.
I was born walking, born in the nowhere between galaxies.
This is it. This is how I always saw heaven, always by the sea, always by night, always in the dark.
Through my sudden tears, the train lights smeared like shooting stars. Lying before the rippling blue window, below the slurred lights of the world above, it was as if we were underwater.
When I returned to New York, it had already changed. I always wished things could just remain.
With the years, we become even more ourselves and call this change.
Look at the lonely fisherman, ' my father says.'Look at his view, ' my mother says.
There is no moon. The stars have risen and fallen and given way to a new spread, to the smeared heart of our Milky Way.
I wanted to walk faster, to run, far as possible from her, from my entire life, from the first day I ever saw her always just a few steps ahead.
We both knew no bounds to our escapism.
Don't fall in love or let anyone's life become more important than your own.
I am a memory house for those I have lost, those I no longer know.
We would survive even ourselves, as long as we were together.
My loves have always been seared with this singing, this singing written by death, the way some lands have always been crippled by war.
Her father kneels and unclasps the urn. Above the waves she falls graceful as snow, my sister, my Sonora.
I meditated on my childhood, vague and distant before high school, where Laura still flickered only on the edge of things.
Our past would dissolve. We would move on from each other and from the ghosts of our youth.