“In the end, we’ll go our separate ways,” she wrote in a poem, “like migratory birds and whales: one belongs to the sky, the other to the deep sea.”
The confessions left unspoken, the courage that came too late, all eventually turned into yellowed pages in the scrapbook of youth. In the best years of our lives, we tried, clumsily but sincerely, to enter another person’s world.
