RXO

the giver

gifting with agony, the weight of world

a tale by lois lowry


art credits

I am so weighted with them.

It's as if... it's like going downhill through deep snow on a sled. At first it's exhilarating: the speed; the sharp, clear air; but then the snow accumulates, builds up on the runners, and you slow, you have to push hard to keep going, and -

The man corrected him.

"Honor," he said firmly. "I have great honor. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power."

Sometimes I wish they'd ask for my wisdom more often - there are so many things I could tell them; things I wish they would change. But they don't want change.

Life here is so orderly, so predictable - so painless.

It's what they've chosen.

Why can't everyone have the memories?

I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part.

The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

You have the colors. And you have the courage. I will help you to have the strength.

Once he had yearned for choice. Then, when he head had a choice, he had made the wrong one: the choice to leave. And now he was starving.

But if he had stayed...

His thoughts continued. If he had stayed, he would have starved in other ways. He would have lived a life hungry for feelings, for color, for love.

Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo.

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