John Burley

The worst kind of loneliness, I think, is to be in the presence of those you love and have them treat you like you aren't there.

The next morning, the earth was strewn with debris from the windstorm the night before. An audience of trees looked down on severed limbs cast about the ground, their hunched and beaten postures reminding me of a congregation of amputees gathered in the wake of a war.