“She could tell, by watching him, what was happening to him. And what was happening was that they penetrated his cloud, they had reached him. Even if their fingers had been a thousand times more gentle than human fingers ever are, [Sonny] could hardly help feeling that they had stripped him naked and were spitting on that nakedness. For he also had to see that his presence, that music, which was life or death for him, had been torture for them and that they had endured it…”
That’s James Baldwin from “Sonny’s Blues.” Today I am going to put it in my book. I am trying to make the parts of my life balance and come together, both, but with soft delineations. I want to be like the clay ball I imagined some posts ago.