that levity really is something like a slippery eel, isn't it? Abel is trying so very hard to keep it in his hands, but it's writhing for dear life in an attempt to get free. the more Amos speaks, the more he lets slip -- the more something sinks in Abel's chest in response, to say nothing of how that last bit elicits a stab of an unconscionable guilt. there's no question his newfound friend hasn't had an easy go of it. but that he is so candid despite it, that despite accepting that everything he's known has returned to the terrible void of emptiness... Amos has let some light back into his eyes, that he still holds on to a kind hand and offers kindness in return...
well, suppose it tells Abel the sort of person he really is. ]
Things aren't always so black and white, are they? [ the subject of having a blind spot is one Abel might be able to sympathize with. he likes to think his moral compass steers him in the right direction these days thanks to the guidance of others, but-- in that way, maybe they aren't too unalike. they're just at different places on the same road, perhaps. ]
And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm, ah... very unfortunately near-sighted, so-- I'm not so sure my vision can be trusted, you know? My glasses are nowhere to be found, sad as it is to say... [ levity. levity. he won't permit it to slip away!! ] But, metaphorically speaking... maybe not seeing 'right' or 'wrong' isn't so bad a thing, as long as you have others around you who you can trust to help steer you.
[ Abel slightly shifts his posture and lightly tilts his head toward Amos; there's something quietly curious in his eyes. ]
There are times I've felt I was so right, and that my 'right' was the only 'right' there ever could be... only to come to a rude awakening later on. Have you ever been like that, Mr. Amos? Instead of having a blind spot, maybe it's like-- like having tunnel vision, instead?
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that levity really is something like a slippery eel, isn't it? Abel is trying so very hard to keep it in his hands, but it's writhing for dear life in an attempt to get free. the more Amos speaks, the more he lets slip -- the more something sinks in Abel's chest in response, to say nothing of how that last bit elicits a stab of an unconscionable guilt. there's no question his newfound friend hasn't had an easy go of it. but that he is so candid despite it, that despite accepting that everything he's known has returned to the terrible void of emptiness... Amos has let some light back into his eyes, that he still holds on to a kind hand and offers kindness in return...
well, suppose it tells Abel the sort of person he really is. ]
Things aren't always so black and white, are they? [ the subject of having a blind spot is one Abel might be able to sympathize with. he likes to think his moral compass steers him in the right direction these days thanks to the guidance of others, but-- in that way, maybe they aren't too unalike. they're just at different places on the same road, perhaps. ]
And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm, ah... very unfortunately near-sighted, so-- I'm not so sure my vision can be trusted, you know? My glasses are nowhere to be found, sad as it is to say... [ levity. levity. he won't permit it to slip away!! ] But, metaphorically speaking... maybe not seeing 'right' or 'wrong' isn't so bad a thing, as long as you have others around you who you can trust to help steer you.
[ Abel slightly shifts his posture and lightly tilts his head toward Amos; there's something quietly curious in his eyes. ]
There are times I've felt I was so right, and that my 'right' was the only 'right' there ever could be... only to come to a rude awakening later on. Have you ever been like that, Mr. Amos? Instead of having a blind spot, maybe it's like-- like having tunnel vision, instead?