The New York Trilogy

who wouldn’t jump at the chance to redeem himself—what man is strong enough to reject the possibility of hope?

life had stopped the moment we went our separate ways, and he belonged to the past for me now, not to the present. He was a ghost I carried around inside me, a prehistoric figment, a thing that was no longer real.

Our lives carry us along in ways we cannot control, and almost nothing stays with us. It dies when we do, and death is something that happens to us every day.