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PARTISAN REVIEW
younger man says: "We aren't responsible really; we advised and she took
our advice. She never told him because she thought if she did she would lose
him. Just like that. Ifforced to marriage, he would run, she said. She was in-
secure."
The middle-aged woman says: "She's a dreamer. It's always been
difficult to bring her down to earth."
Whoever wants me to survive must live my life for me. I can't. Be–
cause taking another's life threatens the loss of one's own - puts the essential
self at risk.
A piece of blue has appeared in the great expanse of white above me
at five thousand feet, and I soar towards it. Is it enough blue to make a
sailor's suit? On full power (2,400 rpm's), nose up, I fly, lighter than air be–
cause I am now filled with hope. The blue is a sign from above. I will be so
quickly through the blue that those who follow will lose me to the eternal sky,
elsewhere
all
covering cloud, puffy and white, a comforter on which I might
sleep forever.
The youngish man who is eating his dinner, concentrating on the
essentials, as usual, says about me, "The trouble with her is that she lives
only in her imagination. She's dead otherwise to the basic realities."
"Yes," says the middle-aged woman. "She has a fantastic imagination."
But what we imagine is the only real. The mind speaks the truth. And
the truth to my mind is the sailor who wears the blue suit. He's gone through
the sky before me, and is in heaven with the unborn. I
will
find him and then
- The other planes have remained below the cloud-comforter, probably
confused and embarrassed, mostly embarrassed, because they no longer can
see me and lack the courage to try.
