- [first lines]
- Martine: I'm not sure I know how it began. But in the midst of a life that I now barely remember, in the midst of those now-forgotten New York days and nights, something happened. I believe it's all true. But it started with a dream.
- Martine: [from her letter] Write a letter to the dead, write it for the dead to read. Oh the dead have swum too far, they have swum beyond the sea. Take the letter in your hand, make a fold and make a fold. Make it into a little boat, place a candle in the hold. Let the paper boat float on, where the river meets the sea. That is where my heart belongs, that is where I long to be. Every candle is a star, every boat floats out to sea. Which I think is not too far, and that is where I long to be. And that is where I long to be.
- Martine: [Tyrone reading her letter] Write a letter to the dead, write it for the dead to read. Oh the dead have swum too far, they have swum beyond the sea. Take the letter in your hand, make a fold and make a fold. Make it into a little boat, place a candle in the hold. Let the paper boat float on, where the river meets the sea. That is where my heart belongs, that is where I long to be. Every candle is a star, every boat floats out to sea. Which I think is not too far, and that is where I long to be. And that is where I long to be.
- [last lines]
- Martine: [from her letter] And I heard now for the first time the silver breath of wind and the ash tree whispering above me, as I saw the shadows of the slender leaves tremble against the skin on my leg; high up where the skirt was raised above the knee. The shadows of the leaves felt sweet on my skin, and I watched their soft movements touching me. I felt the shadows across my skin and I watched. Love Martine.
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