I’ve been reading this wonderful book by Pat Rothfuss. It’s the second installment of a massive epic called The Kingkiller Chronicles. His devoted readership waited almost four years for this next installment. And while I’m only though a third of the way through the book, I have to say, it’s definitely worth the wait. What impresses me most is his ability to put into words moments that defy description.
I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she was surprised to see him there.
No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him.
Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little bit. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t even notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But you know it’s there, down where you can’t see, kindling. (Rothfuss, 225)
I know exactly what this moment feels like because it happened to me. When you look at someone you’ve known for a while and you suddenly see them. You see the possibility of loving them. And your world changes in that moment between the space of two breaths.
It’s like you tap into something absolutely unequivocally true so that you feel the epic grandness of the moment in the infinitesimal shifting of your heart.
And you know your life will never be the same.
Rothfuss, Patrick. (2011). The Wise Man’s Fear. New York, NY: Daw Books.