The Cone Issue #6 Summer 2015 - Travel | Page 50

He never suffered as we did. We could all see each other in our misery. I could move nothing. I was left only my sight and my thoughts, my desires. The freeing was so simple, it was as if it didn’t happen. A passing butterfly sat on my shoulder like a kiss. Then another, then another, as if the butterflies called to each other, suddenly there were hundreds. I felt as though I could fly. That’s what movement feels like when you’ve been still so long. When it was don R