A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night ★★★★★

Sometimes before you fall in love or at the very beginning of falling in love there are signs and wonders whereby what is coming to pass signals itself to you because something so vast and so powerful could not happen without announcing its presence, its necessity, its inherent factualness. Much of our lives it seems are spent in conditions of obscurity, of might-be, of might-have-been, or was-but-is-gone-now, so when there is a falling-in-love, one that is real love, true love, one which will forever alter you, which will not leave you in the condition it found you in, even if after that fact it falls away, it becomes part of the architecture and ruin of the past which we call our present, the here and the now which is fleeting and unfixed, continually destabilized like a broken reflection or a shadow uncast, whatever you are here, however unknown, you were known once, recognized once by something which looked at you, which looked into you and thereby made you into something other, the you that is now and shall not always be. Know that what we are, however fallen, however indeterminate, lost even to ourselves, know that all of that is the product of love, a real love, a true love, one which called to you, which called you from unbeing, a love which made you and unmade you, a love which, however distant, can never be anything other than what you are and have been and shall be, however much we wish it gone, or wish it had never been, wish for it to never have called our name, to never have spoken that name aloud, to have named us from the very start.