New excerpt from The Mojo Collector (see themojocollector.com)
“In the end, there are only these things: love and hate, empathy and indifference.”
I said this to Richard, looking up from my letter from Dad—posted six weeks ago—the letter that contained the news of Uncle Henry’s death. The train rattled along rhythmically swaying us left, right, left, right, left right; bearing us along to our destination. We were sitting side by side on our way from Tuzla to Budapest. Richard stared straight ahead, watching the moving landscape out the window opposite him. After a long silence, I continued on with my monologue on faith. I expected him to listen, which he did. I expected no response.
“Once you accept this, a lot falls away. Just as if you were on a crowded train,” I paused. “You’re jammed together, being jostled, and then the next to last stop everyone gets off and the light shines through and you get a seat…
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