“Stand up, be counted. We have the numbers.”
“Count the number of times you have spoken. And really meant what you have said. Count the number of times you have chosen to keep quiet instead.”
“Sir, I did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?”
“Four hundred sixty-seven,” he whispered. The number seemed to deflate him.He’s still counting. She couldn’t give up.”
“Not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree.”
“Count the times. The number of times you have seen the silence of another world seep though a crack. The number of times you have heard the sea trying to escape from the blue painted wall.”