They sit beside a kitchen table in the evening light, drinking coffee and smoking, and Harry is speaking with a deep voice that's six thousand miles away: they say that to go into the pale is an annihilation so total that it rejects the rule of time and claws you out of the world's memory, but that just isn't true, is it, I mean, we know that, there's testimonies. There are thoughts traveling forever across deconstructed ideas of motorways and shouldn't we bring love to this fragmentary permanence, Kim, would it not be fair that deep down, in this great tumult of consciences, the very bones of this new world will remember that I loved you so much?
Kim sustains his gaze and sits very stiff and very still, existing fully by the kitchen table, trusted anchor feeling the pull.