THE SONG OF ACHILLES CRYING HOURS.

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"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

"And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone."

"When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him."

"We were like gods at the dawning of the world, & our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other."

"I am made of memories."

"He is half of my soul, as the poets say."

"This, I say. This and this. The way his hair looked in summer sun. His face when he ran. His eyes, solemn as an owl at lessons. This and this and this. So many moments of happiness, crowding forward."

"We are all there, goddess and mortal and the boy who was both."

My favourite :')

"Bury us, and mark our names above. Let us be free."

[Let the stories of him be something more.

“What more?” she says.

Returning Hector’s body to Priam. I say That should be remembered.

She is silent for a long time. “And?”

His skill with the lyre. His beautiful voice.]

“Name one hero who was happy. You can’t.”

“I can’t.”

“I know. They never let you be famous and happy. I’ll tell you a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m going to be the first. Swear it."

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the reason. Swear it.”

“I swear it."

“I swear it."

IN THE DARKNESS, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

— the end of thread —