"He hasn't even learned to stop himself. He's always on the way to somewhere else, always becoming, always leaving; so that things come real only at the moment he leaves them. The present is a formless fog, a blur of bright lights noises and a few concrete certainties: I'm afraid, I'm hungry, I want to see you, I'm lonely. Then he departs, and through the rearview mirror he can see the outlines snap into shape: I should have, I could have, I didn't. Junie, he thinks. She was alive inside him, sleeping, taking shape through every waking and sleeping hour. He could feel the memory of her anytime on the surface of his skin: he still can. Juni, he thinks. He was in love; she loved him. It should have been enough."
Kevin Canty - Into the Great Wide Open