[What's strange about seeing this memory unfold is how Thancred can see himself in all of it. The wreckage of a man reflected back in a mirror after a loss too terrible to bear. The grasping for memories and mementos because they're all that man will ever have, because the person they're reminiscent of is never (never) (never) coming back. The resentment of being approached, the reluctance to engage.
And yet he remembers being a child who looked up to a man of vision and believed in the things he believed in because he believed in the man himself — and he knows how it would feel to see one's inspiration reduced to the way Lu Bixing looks when he opens the door, devastation within and hope begging to be afforded a foothold.]
no subject
And yet he remembers being a child who looked up to a man of vision and believed in the things he believed in because he believed in the man himself — and he knows how it would feel to see one's inspiration reduced to the way Lu Bixing looks when he opens the door, devastation within and hope begging to be afforded a foothold.]
Your protégés, I gather?