She could still hear Colin’s sonorous voice in her head, “You’ve led me into the court of heaven, somewhere outside of time.” That bath remained
a moment of rapture, captured, a snapshot, filed in her psyche like her first
sight of Jung’s tower through the trees.
Their relationship had not been a choice for either of them. She had evoked within him that eternal image of woman, his anima, that which made him whole. Lars never understood this. Jung was right: love is never a choice. We’re captured. Once, while driving over the George Washington Bridge, Colin turned to her and said, “You are my delight, the solace for all the bitterness of my life, the compensation for all my disappointments.”
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