you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
”For... Fun?” he echoes, not quite understanding, left stood in the tub examining the trails of dirt and soot that line the creases of his skin, that darken the hair on his arms. ”I don’t think I have ever built a campfire. Not outside in the wilderness.” It sounds like a bizarre thing to do, and Finn is lost in the thoughts about how he would arrange the sticks to light the fire, what the flames might show him. Before he knows it, he’s overbalanced and slumped into the tub, blinking hard.
”What now?” he asks her, as if wondering whether he ought to just lay here in this white room, with rainbows playing at the corners of his vision and a thousand razors in his throat. ”I did this the first day I got here,” he remembers, though it was a long time ago now. ”I’d not been alone in a very long time.”
”What now?” he asks her, as if wondering whether he ought to just lay here in this white room, with rainbows playing at the corners of his vision and a thousand razors in his throat. ”I did this the first day I got here,” he remembers, though it was a long time ago now. ”I’d not been alone in a very long time.”
and that, I believe
is why you are in so much pain
FINN
