The best place to reflect on things is in the back of a taxi in some distant hour of the night, waiting for time to lengthen and distance to contract, for the miles to be consumed by minutes, and considering how old familiarities echo and reverberate noisily down the converging hallways of shared histories.
It is strange how things you have always wanted to hear can be implied in words you never wanted said. For sheer coincidence, blind circumstance, inconceivable chance and a strange coalescence; for conspicuous contradictions and concealed concurrences; for the mad moments, for the long conversations and the lengthier goodbyes; for the sheer lateness of the hour—the night has never been darker, nor the stars as bright, tonight.
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