When my grandmother—my mother’s mother—was dying, she was in
and out of consciousness, not always lucid, and she often confused my mother for
other people from her past: her own mother, a cousin, one of her sisters. She
said...
"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka
