I can't write if you can't relate

Amnesiac · 16-01-2002 2:17pm #1

Henceforth the memory of Leon became, as it were, the centre, the focus of her sorrow. It glowed and sparkled amid the surrounding gloom more brightly than a derelict fire, left by travellers journeying across some Russian steppe to burn itself out in the snow. She hurried towards it, she crouched down beside it, she stirred most carefully its fading embers, she cast about her for anything and everything that might make them burn the brighter, and her most faint and far-off memories, as well as the things that happened today or yesterday, things imagined and things felt, her dreams of love that melted into air, her hopes of happiness that snapped like dead branches in the wind, her barren virtue, her fallen hopes, the daily domestic round- she gathered them all together and made of them the wherewithal to feed the embers of her melancholy.