His claim to his home is deep, but there are too many ghosts. He must absorb without being absorbed.
We are linked by blood, and blood is memory without language.
So when I read this story, it unlocked a volcano of unanswered questions, because the questions had never been asked. It was an opportunity to come to terms with the lot of repressed history - and history of repression.
Now, Marlon and I - for some reason, even today - even today, we can't say two words to each other. We really can't talk to each other. You know, I say to him - Marlon can't talk. I mean, he'd talk to you. But he can't talk.
No adult in my family would ever tell me anything about who my father was. I knew from an older cousin - only four years older than I am - everything, or what little I could discover about him.
How is it I know this little about the boy who says he loves me -- the boy whose real name is powerful enough to keep us alive in a train car full of enemies?
The facts are always less than what really happened.
The Photograph is concerned with the power that the past has to interfere with the present: the time bomb in the cupboard.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.
A tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, That it intends to do.
There's this unspoken history that exists between any mother and daughter, no matter how deep and loving the bond is, twenty-five years of being raised by someone, there's a kind of deep history which means that there are shortcuts to getting on each other's nerves.
There are stories that people don't want to talk about that brought this music through.
With 'Hollow Circus,' I used a family story that haunted me as a kid, one of those anecdotes about a family member that would rarely be spoken of in front of the children.
There are secrets in all families.
If only those old walls could talk...how boring they would be.
