[…] But Tobias had just confirmed for me something that I’d been casting about for, whether I realized it yet or not: that there was congruence between what I’d read in Lily’s journals and the stories carried around about in the minds and memories of those she described. Were they the same? As in, one-to-one, the ratio of fact to text? Was that even a question that could be answered? Was it one that fundamentally meant anything? In the day-rooms of our hearts, as in that moment, it did not.
[for electric guitar, cello, drum, and fishwalk]
