“Grandma, come-on already, we have to leave before the ashes asphyxiate us.”
“Hush, child, I mean to stay, I wish to hear the story the volcano is ready to tell us. It has been silent for too long, and it has been silenced for too long.”
“What does it have to say?”
“It’s telling me a story, it’s telling us a story, and we can never know what a story is until it has been told.”
“And what good are stories if you choke on black soot and putrid, sulfurous gases?”
“Stories, love, open the world to us, and when we fall inside, we realize that we are falling into ourselves.”
“Why would I want to fall into myself?”
“Don’t we all just want to fall into ourselves?”