Part of me wants Thomas Hamilton to be alive if it’s only so John Silver can take one look at him, nudge James Flint in the ribs and go “I get it now.”.
No, but think about this says about SILVER. We immediately think Thomas, because this is a story, and that’s how stories are written. People interconnect, there are few coincidences, seemingly small things carry SO much weight.
This is Silver’s real world, yet he still thinks like this.
What a brilliant and terrifying thing, to always be seeing all these possibilities and connections.
When the moment finally came I had put so much of myself into this place, in that moment, I honestly didn’t know where I ended and it began. There may be ways of severing oneself in that way sacrificing one part to save the other. But in that moment I honestly couldn’t find something sharp enough to make the cut.
Meg's Mumbles 