[“We survived the selves that we remembered” – W.S. Merwin]
We gathered around the campfire, we ghosts, told stories of who we had been, our struggled lives, our agonies and sometimes our joys too.
The others didn’t frown, didn’t tell us we’d fucked up our lives, even though we had. They just smiled blankly, held out their hands to warm them, and confessed that they hadn’t been listening to us, never would.