[the absence] Send her on a journey.
Right now, my heart is out of my chest. It's laying on the desk of someone that i love: from there, it will go to someone that he trusts, and then hung from a tree, and in a few weeks, it goes to the fire.
I have no choice now but to trust the process, trust the line of love. It will go from here to there, touched by hands, but unopened, unknown.
This makes it no easier. It has to be done: i wish i could pour out the whole tale to someone who could understand it and be unharmed, who could hold me together for an hour. But it is not so.
The deer-god, at least, has what he needs.