beloved.

Denver: What were you praying for, Ma’am?

Sethe: Not for anything. I don’t pray anymore. I just talk.

Denver: What were you talking about?

Sethe: You won’t understand, baby.

Denver: Yes, I will.

Sethe: I was talking about time. It’s so hard for me to believe in it. Some things go. Pass on. Some things just stay. I used to think it was my rememory. You know. Some things you forget. Other things you never do. But it’s not.

Places, places are still there. If a house burns down, it’s gone, but the place-the picture of it-stays, and not just in my rememory, but out there, in the world. What I remember is a picture floating around out there outside my head. I mean, even if I don’t think it, even if I die, the picture of what I did, or knew, or saw is still out there. Right in the place where it happened.

Denver: If it’s still there, waiting, that must mean that nothing ever dies.

Sethe: Nothing ever does.

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