When you spend as much time as I did collecting other people’s stories, you kind of stop having your own.
Yesterday’s yesterday, but today’s today. And God knows if there’ll be a tomorrow.
When we’re gone, our stories will be all that’s left.
We’re not ghosts. What we lost doesn’t define us. Maybe what we do. Maybe. Or maybe what we’re running from.
We don’t know how all this ends. The story might be the only thing that’s left.[to Victor]
The truth matters. Even if it’s just heard out loud. Even if it’s just heard once.
The truth isn’t about words. It’s about what really happened and what’s happening now.
I don’t stay in the car. That rule’s kept me alive even before people were eating each other’s faces.[to Isabelle]