I knew that my eyes weren't reading, but I'd never let myself be convinced that I was pretending, and that I hadn't come in search of reading on an island, I was trying to ignore that God was giving me exactly what I'd ask for and that I– I was saying "no". I was pretending that I didn't notice that I'd constructed a whole hope for whatever was finally happening to me, but that there I was wearing glasses with the open book, as if I loved so much that I could only shout "no". But I also knew that if in that exact moment I didn't take up the calm thread of my previous life, then my balance would never return, and never would my things be recognized by me.
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