The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 41

-It’s all in the telling
And B replied: -then tell me
-And I will, I will, I will, he replied and when on to tell all the parts and
divisions and implications that he knew.
-But that’s not something I don’t already know!
-Oh you may know your version of it but you don’t know mine.
-Same words, same story.
-Never the same words, never the same story.
And it never was no matter what the other one said to him because if it
could be told one way then it could be told the other. Which it was and the
difference was in the telling as it was always meant to be. which was what
he wanted to explain but somehow couldn’t no matter how often he tried.
And he tried, oh he was trying even when no one was listening and the last
tram had returned to the depot and there was nothing for it but the long
walk home. which he started out on but soon abandoned as if it was
another story that he couldn’t get right to a listener’s ear. But no one was
listening now. Shadows and street lights only and the occasional stray cat to
call out to. And the shadows were as large as he was and he was soon taken
up in the darkness in a somewhat pleasing manner.

-Your temperament is not what I would call pliable
-I was not aware pliability was counted among the virtues
-It’s a social more than a spiritual necessity
-Then I will add it to the poverty which is mine
-Do I sense the stirring of pride in your voice?
-I see it as a refinement of character
-Ah, so you are a believer