In the presence of absence the river shifts, clouds play, light hides, and the moon slivers away. In the presence of absence the ache and pleasure of longing lengthen the night. In the presence of absence tears spill watermarks of grief down parchment cheeks. In the presence of absence the heart shuts and opens, and opens. In the presence of absence without recourse. In the presence of absence with anticipation. When that which is absent is the strongest presence in one’s life. A desolate poignancy. An acceptance of impermanence.
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| — | Harriet Bart, In The Presence of Absence |
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