A creature made from stone

defensive dreamerTime, unmoved by his suffering, resumed its course. We cannot keep close to our losses even if loss is all that remains of our loved ones. He had been bound to his companions by circumstance and habit, by outer design rather than inner necessity. Every day, month, week carried him further away from the experience of a shared existence. He had been utterly used to their conversations and rituals and had been almost overcome by grief during the first weeks after they had been taken from him – but now that they were gone he was slowly getting used to not being with them anymore. He also grew used to his even smaller view of the world, he kept in mind what he knew about the front steps, but he was content now with observing the smaller life of the back door – as in a way he had always been. There came a day when he felt that knowing about the life on Main Street had been but a youthful entertainment, almost an expression of vulgar curiosity, and that the quietness of the shadows on the roof was much more suitable for a creature made of stone than the strange mutation into language between the seven had been.

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