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The illusion of power too often becomes power, my father used to say.
DEATH, EIDHIN ONCE INSISTED WHILE EXPLAINING THE ddram cyfraith, is our most important horizon. It matters because we need an end to what we can see. Without it we would drift, overwhelmed, nothing to orient ourselves against. Without it, we would never be able to focus on what is truly important: that which is in front of us.
We all tend to imagine that everyone who looks at us will remember us, but to most people we’re just bricks in a wall. Anonymity isn’t about being invisible. It’s about being forgotten.”
We can spout a lifetime of words and they will echo and fade, and history will not remember a single one. I don’t like it either but when power is so entrenched, so impossibly distant,
blood becomes the only possible currency of change.”
Grief, he explained to me gently, is a process that has only a beginning. We work through it, not get over it. And so attempting to just ignore its ache is inevitably a pointless exercise.