In the Garden: Fiction — Gary Garvin | Numéro Cinq
...since we can’t love ourselves or each other but only what flees from us, what is beyond us, we turn love over to Someone, Something Else. But Something Else is only the burning residue of our selves extinguished by the flame, selves collected and displaced, selves hidden from us by the act of consecration, selves blinded by the purity of our beseeching.
