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“But it wasn’t just the prospect of returning that drew him. It was not the memory of floating spires and air heavy with music. It was the prospect of stopping. Of truly belonging somewhere again. It was the idea of slowing his steps and turning his eyes to a place that saw him, that recognised him, that claimed him. It was that concept, the cessation of motion, that drove his words.” — A.J. Hackwith
But it wasn’t just the prospect of returning that drew him. It was not the memory of floating spires and air heavy with music. It was the prospect of stopping. Of truly belonging somewhere again. It was the idea of slowing his steps and turning his eyes to a place that saw him, that recognised him, that claimed him. It was that concept, the cessation of motion, that drove his words.