That’s what my dad says, and he’s right. Strong people hit; weak people get hit.’

‘I may not be smarter than pigs,’ Enzo repeated to himself, ‘but I’m more patient.’

a primal fear of the dark

He thought of nothing. He died thinking of nothing.

because a child doesn’t die like you, an adult or an old person reading these lines. Children die without having had a chance to picture the end, without a sense of it being born and maturing within them. They die the same way they get lice or a skinned knee. They die without understanding, with their childish naïveté imagining death the way they i

And as the little party started walking, he even doubted that his companions were there at all, with him, at his side, weary ghosts with hesitant movements and hushed voices. Enzo might have found them and killed them all in their sleep, everyone except him, or including him. What would it change? Who was to say what you see or feel and how you wal

What was important was a fleeting moment of total freedom that seemed within reach and that he could not fail to seize.

It isn’t plagued by doubt. It follows its nature, without emotion or hesitation. And without mercy, of course.

This is not a moment. There is no time in what you are going through. Your suffering is a place, and you don’t know whether you can ever leave this place.