Tag: Clive Barret

Chapter Fifty-Five – 7 of Swords

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life, Tarot

I was getting itchy.

It had been two years. I had ended up on the streets at seventeen and I was nineteen now. In two years, it felt like I had lived a lifetime. I thought of where I was now, and I knew that it was but a facet of my life. Depending on the way I turned the dice, another piece of my path would show itself and I would find myself faced with another choice.

Two years, filled with so many different things. In that time, I had experienced true friendship and had met people that filled me with joy. I found hope, started to believe in the power of dreams. I had found the small joys, like beautiful music heard through a window and the joy of food shared amongst people you loved.

I had also experienced two years of a wonderous fear of never knowing where you are going to sleep, find food for yourself, let alone people that you could trust. At times, all I kept close to me where my alarm clock and my Tarot deck. The Ancient Egyptian Tarot was the only link I had with my brother, and I’d like to think that in some way, he was keeping me safe.

I was fucking tired. I was tired of not having my own home, somewhere that I could close a door, where I owned everything within four walls. I wanted a couch and a television. I wanted to know that I could lock the door and that had my own room to sleep in. I wanted a bed. I didn’t want to sleep on a piece of foam on the floor.

I’m not sure why this clicked with me suddenly, but I woke up a little. I wanted more. I was so tired, and I wanted a home. I looked at the state of Lisa’s apartment, the dishes half-filled with old water. I wanted to consist of more than a diet of white bread and peanut butter, cigarettes and pot. I was so fucking tired.

I wanted more.

Without Lisa knowing, I started looking for another place to live. I knew that I wanted four walls around me, some kind of privacy and a different live than this one. I wanted a key ring, an address that people could send mail to. I wanted a bed. I didn’t want to be a nomad anymore.

I also knew that I would have to do this without Lisa. She didn’t want to get off welfare, and she had been on it for much longer than I had. Part of me felt like a thief as I started to inquire about good places to go and find a job. I felt like I was betraying her in some way. That by wanted to step away from this life, for wanting more, she would see it as a betrayal.

We were sitting out front having a cigarette and there was a cup of coffee in front of each of us. I tried to find calm in the sounds of the world waking up around me. I felt like I was telling my mother that I wanted to move out on my own and I knew that this was a big thing for me. I heard a bird call and it seemed like it was urging me on. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking joy from the sun that warmed my skin.

“I’m pregnant.” Lisa said.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. The sun was hitting her face, and she was squinting into it. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She took a long puff on her cigarette. When she was letting the smoke out, she looked down at the cigarette in her hand. “Huh. I’ll probably have to change to from regular smokes to DuMaurier lights, so the babies okay.”

The words that I wanted to say died on my tongue. There was no way I could step away from her now. I thought of the fact that she had given me space in her home, her food. Lisa had offered me safety. I had to make sure that she was okay. I reflected on the stated of her apartment and thought that it was no place for a baby to grow up in.

“I need your help with this. I want you to be my birth coach.”

I let out a puff of smoke. I watched the cloud of air float away full of words that I hadn’t said. I could see the odd word held safely within the smoke. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re my best friend, Jamieson. I don’t trust many people, but I would trust you with my life. I want my child to have the same guidance that you give me.”

“What kind of guidance can I give a child?” I asked her. “I don’t provide you with guidance, not really.”

“Jamieson, you’re tough. You’ve survived so much, you’ve seen and experienced horrors, but somehow despite it all, you’re positive. Your outlook on life astonishes me.” Taking another puff off of her smoke, she pointed it at me like a wand. “I don’t know how you can be happy having to live with everything you have to carry inside you. I don’t know how you’d do it. I’d be fucking miserable. I want my child to have that kind of mentality and that kind of light.” Smoke left her mouth, and I watched as it joined the cloud of smoke that held my words. As the tongues of smoke mingled, my words could be seen more clearly and I could see the word hope contained in the smoke before it, too, disappeared.

“I’d love to be your birth coach, I’m honoured.” I told her, meaning every word.

I wondered at the life I had been about to make for myself and now I knew that it would come, that I was ready, but it would not be now. I didn’t want to slither off into the night like some kind of thief either. Now that I had made the decision to move on, I knew that it would become possible.

That was enough for now.

Chapter Fifty-Four – 6 of Swords

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Personal Growth, Someone Else’s Life

Sophie was beginning work on a tarot deck.

She had gathered a few of her Pagan friends to be different cards. A lot of people wanted to be part of the Major Arcana cards, but I was fine with just being included in the deck. When Sophie told me that I could have my choice of the Minor Arcana, I thought about what I was trying to achieve on this new path without Francis. I had gone from being part of something to being alone and, though I recognized what he had done to protect himself, I wasn’t sure how to move forward.

“You’re such a Swords,” she said, describing the suit as if it were a personality trait. “You’re a writer and a creative like me and Swords are such a creative suit.”

I shook my head. “I just find them so violent.”

“They don’t have to be, it depends on how you look at them. You wouldn’t be the Ace of Swords, maybe the Two of Swords?”

I shook my head again. “Can’t there be another card?”

Sophie looked me up and down, wondering where to place me in her deck. After some time, she spoke. “How about the Two of Pentacles? You’re just starting on your true creative journey, so how about we give you some balance as you go forward?”

She had me dress in a white’s poets’ blouse and striped pants, as if I were some kind of circus performer. I took Sophie’s hand with my left hand, and I took hold of her boyfriend James’ with my right.  They had me get up on to a large tree branch and when I was balanced, they let go so that James could take the photo with Sophie directing him and making sure that he got the right shot. High up on the branch, I could see everything and everyone that was at the farm. Francis was the Magician card, and Lisa was the Star card. Jess was the Hermit and Fox was trying to be The Emperor, but Sophie wanted Fox to be The Hange Man, but Fox didn’t want to hang from a tree as James had suggested.

I had seen Francis walking around all morning and just as I stayed away from him, he stayed from me. I tried to keep my eyes from looking at him, but they were drawn to Francis and the surety that he conducted himself with. He walked around the grounds with such confidence that I was jealous of him. I didn’t feel nearly that comfortable with myself, especially with the storm that he had caused within me.

My eyes were drawn to Francis as Sophie and James helped me along the long tree branch. It felt like I was perched within the trees and I smelled the earth. I could also feel the wind moving around me. The day was hot and humid, and the wind was warm. I could smell honeysuckle and the ever-present smell of manure that was used as fertilizer from the farm next door. I could smell the leaves of trees and the mustiness that came from the shadows.

I turned away from Francis and the pain that he caused in me. I had tried to patch the holes that he had left in my heart, but I could hear the wind whistling through them. My heart sounded hollow, and I wanted to fill it with something else other than the withered heart that I had chosen to keep safe inside of a metal box. Looking out at the wide-open expanse of the fields in front of me, I let myself imagine the grass like a green sea that could take me somewhere else where I could let myself heal.

I looked away from Francis and what he represented and chose to turn away from him and toward what would come in the future instead. I knew that he had been my first love, but I knew that there would be others.

Sophie explained that I would have to balance on the tree branch on my own for a few minutes while James grabbed the shot from different angles and she made sure that I would be comfortable with that. The Pentacles would be added in digitally afterwards. I nodded and they both took their hands away. I followed Sophie’s instructions about how she wanted me to pose.

I let nodded again and put my arms out on either side of me to get my balance before I moved them in front of me. With my cerebral palsy, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to stay on the tree branch, but right now, for this moment, I was holding my balance, and I didn’t feel like I was going to fall. I was surprised by how free I felt.

With my palms held open to the sun and my gaze on the sky and sea of grass, I felt like I was flying.

Chapter Fifty-Three – 5 of Swords

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life, Tarot, Tarot Writing

I was so angry.

I was also surprised at the thoughts that were going through my head. Every memory of Francis was now tainted and dulled in my head because of what he had done. The fact that he had talked to everyone but me saddened me; the fact that he wouldn’t let me talk to him at all, that he wouldn’t talk to me at all, infuriated me.

I had been sad for days, but gradually, the sadness passed into anger. The water that had surrounded me slowly evaporated as the anger took over. There was a storm in my mind filled with hot shadows made from my fears come to life. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Francis and his form wavered as if I were seeing him through the film of heat from a fire.

As much as I loved him, I was so angry. I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, for who could hate their first true love? Lisa had told me it was okay to hate someone, but I took offense to that. My love for Francis still ran so deeply in me. I couldn’t stop the flow of my thoughts and emotions, even if there had been a dam put in place in front of the emotions. I had used my mind to place a barrier around my heart and the memories that I had of Francis. I made sure that the metal barrier in my mind was sharp and pointy so that it would hurt every time I tried to look at the time I had spent with him. It was easier for me to go keep my head up afterward and didn’t hurt so much to go on without Francis.

And yet, I would find myself taking out those memories and looking at them, even though I knew that I was hurting myself each time I plucked a memory from that metal box. I would try to look at the memories through a thin red haze. I knew that it was hurting me to keep looking in, but I wanted to see what I had done wrong. When did he stop loving me? I was so lost within myself that even though I kept going, I was stuck. I said this much to Lisa one night.

She’d brought home a rare treat. She pulled open her pack of cigarettes and presented me with a rolled joint. “You look like you really need to loosen up.”

“Why, I’m not uptight.”

“You are so fucking controlled, Jamieson. When was the last time you did something for fun? And you’ve been mired in the dark forest; I don’t mind telling you that. Francis isn’t everything, Jamieson. You need to stop beating yourself up and thinking of him that way. You’re everything.”

Lighting the joint, Lisa took a few puffs and passed it to me. I gladly took in a few puffs of smoke, hopeful that it would at least lessen the pain that I was in and soften the edges of the steel knives. I passed the joint back to her, and she took a few more puffs of her own. Soon, the joint half gone, we were both giggling like school children. My face hurt from laughing, having been kept in a frown for so long. 

The moment made me realize how long I had been hurting myself. I shook my head and looked at Lisa, her eyes large with mirth. “He really was a dickhead.” I couldn’t bring myself to call him an asshole like Lisa did on a regular basis since he had broken up with me. Dickhead was as far as I was willing to go. I still loved him. It hurt to admit this to myself, but I knew that my love for him would take a while to fade.

Letting out a laugh, Lisa said “Well, he does like dick, so it’s an appropriate nickname! I’ll call him that next time I see him.”

I didn’t think anything of it until a few days later. My pager went off, and I saw Francis’ number flash on the screen. My whole world seemed to pause and go still. I couldn’t hear the sounds of Lisa in the next room, or the sounds of traffic from the freeway near by. I stared at the number and wondered if I wanted to talk to him or hear anything that he had to say.

I was still wondering this as I walked out the door, lit a cigarette, and found myself at the payphone across the street. I put a quarter in and dialed his number and when the phone clicked and he said hello, the sound returned to the world around me. His voice could make me believe in any kind of possibility and I wondered which one I would find here.

“Hello, Francis?” I said.

“Hello,” I was surprised to hear the coldness in his voice. “Don’t you mean dickhead?” he asked. “That’s what you’ve been calling me.”

The volume of the noise around me went even louder. Francis’ words seemed too loud and his words felt like a slap. “I mean, I could have called you worse things. You’re lucky that it was just dickhead.”

“That’s what I am to you? I loved you, Jamieson. You don’t talk about people you love like that.”

“You do when they are being mean. You hurt me, Francis.” Even saying his name hurt me and I felt the pain in my chest, the swords clanking together. “I have a right to be upset after you did what you did.”

“I set you free, Jamieson.” I heard the click of a lighter and Francis took in a breath of smoke. “You should be thanking me. I’m not a dickhead.”

Louder than any other sound was the loud beating of my heart. I could hear it in my ears and the noise of it seemed to fill my mind completely. I thought of every other man I had been with, and I didn’t use my voice. My heart wanted me to know that I had one. I closed my eyes and watched as I took hold of one of the swords that surrounded my heart. In my minds eye, I held it out towards Francis.

Letting my eyes slide open, I took in my own breath of smoke. “You’re right, Francis. You’re not a dickhead. I believe that asshole fits you a lot better. You don’t get to break my heart and then tell me how I feel. This is on you.”

I hung up the phone before he could start talking again because I realized that what he said no longer mattered. I could grieve now, finally seeing Francis for what he was. It seemed that he had given me a gift in the end, the clarity that can only come from pain.

I held on to the sword like a dowsing rod and let it lead me back home.

Chapter Fifty-Two – 4 of Swords

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life, Tarot

I arrived back at Lisa’s with a broken heart.

Every breath I took into myself hurt and I wondered if this would be the way it was from now on. I dried the tears that had started again before I entered the house. I wanted to appear strong, but I knew that this would not last long. I’d resolved myself to the idea that tears were a sign that I was strong enough to cry. I just wished the tears would stop. I had cried all the way back to Lisa’s.

She seemed genuinely unsurprised to see me back so quickly. “Jamieson, you’re home early.”

I looked at her and saw her kind face and knew that I couldn’t keep it from her for any length of time. “Francis broke up with me.” I said, new tears sliding down my cheeks.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

That stopped me short, and I felt like I’d been slapped. “Why are you sorry?” Her words clicked into my head. “What do you mean, you know? What are you talking about?”

She patted the chair beside her and passed her pack of cigarettes towards me. I reached for the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out for myself. Getting up quickly, Lisa put the kettle on to boil. She was drinking coffee, but she drank it at all times of the day. She knew I liked a cup of herbal tea in the evenings. If she was brewing me tea, I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say.

She waited until the kettle was boiled and she poured the water into the mug. I could smell peppermint across the kitchen. Bringing the tea back to the table, she put the cup beside me and took my free hand in hers. “I know because we talked about it.”

“It meaning us? Like, Francis and myself?”

“Yeah, he’s been talking to everyone about his feelings for months now.”

“Months?” I felt the ground move beneath me. Looking down, I wasn’t surprised to see that the earth had opened up around me. If I looked too deeply into the earth, I could see the air moving within it and feel the wind on my skin. “What did you talk about?” I could barely get the words out. It felt like I was having to pull each word from my lips, the air to create them gone for now.

“Well, how young you were, of course. How he loved you but realized that he didn’t love you in the way you needed to be loved. There were so many years between you.”

“That didn’t matter to me!” I told her, letting out a puff of smoke. I watched it float to the ceiling to join the ether and wished that I could find a way to disappear so easily. “I knew he was having difficulty with it; he kept saying that I was only six years older than his son.”

“Then you see the problem. He already had two kids; he didn’t want a third one.”

Whatever words I was going to speak were slapped out of me. I closed my eyes and looked down at my heart which still bore the scars Francis had given me. I held my heart in my hands, and I cupped my hands around my heart to keep it safe. I would not let him hurt me. I kept my eyes closed when I spoke next. “Why didn’t he talk to me?”

“Because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He loved you in the beginning, Jamieson. But there was more than twenty years between the both of you.”

“That didn’t matter to me. I love him and never saw age when I looked at him.”

“Yeah, well he couldn’t overlook it.”

“Fine, but he should have talked to me about it. Who else did he talk to about breaking up with me?”

An uncomfortable look came over her face. “Everyone,” she said.

“Like, everyone we know? Define everyone. Like Darnelle and Sophie? Jen?”

“That’s a good start. But when I mean everyone, I mean anyone who would listen. He was so broken up about everything. It’s been going on for months.”

“But we’ve been together for months, almost a year.”

“He started talking to me about it soon after you got together. He loved you but didn’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, well, he certainly knew what to do when I was sucking his dick.” The words came out of my mouth unbidden. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pushed my cup of tea towards me. “Francis is an asshole. He may be all flash in the pan and sparkles, but I still think that when you have a chance at love, you don’t start looking for excuses to take your heart back.”

I closed my eyes again and could see my heart. It looked whole again. There were cracks that ran along the surface, but it was still beating. I could get through this. I had to get through this. For a moment in the dark, I was beside Shades while he fucked a woman, and I opened my eyes so that I could let go of that memory. I was always giving my heart to the people who didn’t want it. Here I was having discovered what love could truly be and the magic it could create, but it had been a lie, too.

Lisa could sense where my mind was going. “He loved you, Jamieson. I’m sure of it.”

“Then why did he push me away?” I asked. Fresh tears slid down my cheeks.

“I think he was pushing himself away. Not that I’m playing devils advocate, but I can’t imagine what it was like for him to love you and fear you at the same time.”

I let out a laugh. “Why would he fear me?”

“Because you gave him the love that he’s always been wanted and that terrifies him. He doesn’t think he deserved it, so he runs away from it, hurting people in the process.”

I nodded and got up from the table. I took my tea and went out back, sitting down on the back stoop in the dark. I could see bugs surrounding the lamp by the door. I listened to the wind and the sounds of traffic and other people in the distance going about their lives, unaware that it felt like mine had ended.

In my minds eye, I saw myself holding my heart to my chest. I knew that what it needed was love and care. I couldn’t give my heart to another; I had to keep mine close and love it as much as I could. I would focus on loving myself, instead of loving others who could not love me back. I took the four shards of metal that had been left in my heart and gently pulled them free. I took the time to fashion a box around my heart that would protect it and keep my heart from harm.

I would give my heart the rest that it needed so that it would be able to heal in peace. It was the least I could do after everything that my heart had seen me through. I opened my eyes again and looked into the shadows, knowing that I had to find my peace after I had time to grieve.

I lit a cigarette and the smoke faded in the shadows much as I wished to do.

Chapter Fifty-Two – 3 of Swords

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life, Tarot

When I arrived at Francis’ office, he wasn’t there.

He always waited for me to leave work. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t be at work. I found a payphone and called his number, but no one picked up. I called Stacey and Max’s number and Stacey picked up almost right away.

“Stacey, is something wrong? I went to meet Francis at the office, and he wasn’t there.”

She took in a deep breath. “Oh, Jamieson. Francis is here.”

“He’s at home?” I was shocked. I couldn’t comprehend why he would have gone home without me. My mind knew that we always went home together.

“You better come here, Jamieson.” She let out another long breath. “You aren’t going to like what he has to say to you. I’m sorry, Jamieson, I really am.”

I hung up and hopped on the first bus I knew that would take me to Francis’ apartment building. I sat on the bus clutching my backpack and holding tightly to it. I didn’t like the worry that I heard in her voice and the sad tone that Stacey spoke to me with. It was as if something terrible had happened or someone had died. If I closed my eyes, I could hear her voice in my mind, and it was almost like a warning of sorts.

I tried to think of what she could have been warning me against. Was Francis okay? Why hadn’t he waited for me at his work? Was he sick? The ride on the bus took forever and no time at all. Time ceased to matter while I was the bus. My book, journal and my tarot cards were in my bag, but I didn’t pull any of them out. I knew that none of them would bring me comfort until I spoke to Francis and I could feel his arms around me. I sat there on the bus knowing that everything would be okay if I could hear his voice, if I could feel his lips against mine.

By the time I got to his building and got off the bus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on a death march. I was filled to the brim with worry. When I reached the building, I ran into the lobby and keyed his buzzer number into the voice box. I expected to hear his voice welcoming or saying hello like he normally did, but there was only the sound of silence to greet me before the loud buzz telling me that the front door was open. I didn’t bother with the elevator but took the stairs to the apartment. I knew the stairwell was closer to the apartment door and I wouldn’t have to walk down the hallway.

With each step, the worry filled my mind until it was all that I could see. I pictured Francis sick on his bed or injured and waiting on the couch for me. I could think of no other reason for him not to wait for me. He must have been hurt. It was the only explanation that made sense. When I got to the right floor, I left the stairwell and there was his apartment door. I raised my hand to knock on the wood, but the door opened before I could knock.

Francis stood there.

He looked horrible as if he had been crying for a long time and I went to kiss him, but he backed away from me. He held up his hand in the universal gesture of stop and I did. I looked at him and I could see the seas that had been calm before were now a wild storm. The water lashed against his eyes.

“You’re only six years older than my son.” He said softly. Francis looked like he was struggling to get the words out.

“I know that already,” I told him and went to move inside the apartment, knowing that everything would be all right if I could just hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. That we would get through whatever was wrong together.

He held up his hand again and actually pushed me softly back from him. “No,” he said. “You’re only six years older than my son.” He said again. “I’m going to be sixty-one when you’re just about to turn forty. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ruin your life.”

Something clicked in my brain, and I finally realized what was happening. “Francis, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be what you want me to be.”

My chest hurt and I wondered if my heart would stop. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t draw breath, I was shattering but I was still standing in front of the man I loved with all my heart, and all he did he still had his hand up, like a talisman, holding me apart from him.  “I don’t want you to be anyone else but you,” I told him, hating that my voice was breaking. I watched my words fall to the carpet at his feet, unable to reach him. “I love you with everything I have.”

“I can’t do this,” he said again. The words came out roughly and I felt like he had slapped me.

“Can’t we go inside and talk?” I asked, sure that he would let me in, that I could hold him and comfort him, positive that all I needed to do was talk to him. I didn’t realize that his mind had already been made up.

“I don’t love you,” he said. “I’m not sure I ever did. I think I was in love with the idea of you.” He didn’t say anything for a moment and in that silence, my heart broke into pieces, shattering like a glass window into so many pieces. I could hear them clattering to the bottoms of my feet, the jagged edges cutting into me and making me bleed all the way down. It was like the floor rose up to hold me and at the same time, the lights above me were incredibly bright, so bright that I couldn’t see.

“I love you,” I said. I realized then that I was crying, that tears were streaming down my face. “I love you, Francis. I love you with all my heart.”

He nodded and it looked as if my words hurt him. I could see the pain slash across his face. “But I don’t love you. Don’t make this difficult, Jamieson. For both our sakes, please.”

I nodded, unsure how to find my voice, feeling as if I were falling and flying at the same time, unable to get the world to stop moving and stay still. I stared at him, unsure of who this man was anymore. Had I loved someone but never knew them?

I nodded again, pulled my coat around me. “Okay,” I said. “Okay, I love you, okay. Okay, I love you.”

I turned away from him because I knew that the more I looked at him, the more I believed that our love could survive anything and I knew that it was no longer there, he had put the wall between us. “Okay,” I said again.

I went to the stairwell door and looked back at him. He was looking at me, but he didn’t see me anymore. “Bye.” I said, trying to fill that one word with everything I wanted to say but he didn’t want to hear.

I went down the stairs and out the side door. It had grown dark, and it was raining when I stepped outside. I stood there in the rain, letting it wash over me for a moment, before I started walking towards the bus stop. I was almost there when I heard my name behind me. I turned, my heart in my throat, expecting to see Francis racing after me, but it was Max. She was carrying an umbrella. “Jamieson, here. Get under here. Are you okay?”

I nodded my head but when the tears started again, I shook it from side to side. “I don’t know.”

“That was a shitty thing.” She said. “A really shitty thing he did to you. I told him not to do it that way. He’s such an asshole.”

I almost went to his defence even then. I almost told her that Francis wasn’t an asshole, but I couldn’t do it. I just nodded because I couldn’t find the words.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked.

I nodded robotically. “Okay.” I said. “I will be okay.”

She hugged me tightly and when she pulled away, she gave me her umbrella. “Here, you need this more than I do, you have further to go home.”

More tears started. I felt like I was walking away from the home where I had been the happiest. Where Francis and I had been building some kind of life together. “Okay,” I said. “Thank you,”

I walked to the bus stop then and looked into the distance. I could see my bus coming. Getting onto the bus, all I could hear was the sound of rain and the rest of my heart falling away from me. I took comfort from the pain I felt because it meant I was still alive.

As the bus took me back to Lisa’s, I let the tears fall and they mirrored the rain falling outside of the bus. I turned to look out the window and could see my face, pale against the glass. It looked like I had become water, and I wondered if the water would take away the pain that was running through me. Finally, I embraced it because I felt like I deserved it. As the bus moved onward, taking me away from the man I loved, I knew that I was leaving a part of myself behind. I looked at the roadside and could see the jagged pieces of my heart littering the road like rubies in the dark.