I have been merrily lurking around in this fandom, reading to my heart's content while trying to decide how to go about leaving comments. Do I do it on older fic, or barge in on something new? It would appear that I have decided that right here and now will do, rather than waste another second without giving some sort of feedback.
Surprisingly long you may say, but it seemed so short and intense whilst reading. I just love how he is so tired and has been to so many places and yet still cannot out run himself, his enemies let alone rest. For over two years at that intensity - it makes me simply exhausted to think of it. To truly vanish is such a hard thing to do, let alone when you just cannot repress something entirely unique (flaws and all). Yet he is all the time, hiding things and holding everything back - I've had that moment of being unable to remember a word in English without some very complex moves to regain it, it is oddly distressing. By the end, where he can let John give him his own name in the delirium of pain as compared to the myriad identities he struggles to keep up with... tragic.
The imagery is just stunning, of travel and of the sheer danger involved in going through Tibet, India and how reliant you become on just what you carry with you. The final scenes of him staggering, ill, through the countryside and his meditations on addiction are rather breathtaking. So much so that I think I am going to post this and go read it again. Just wonderful, thank you.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2011-03-13 12:34 pm (UTC)Surprisingly long you may say, but it seemed so short and intense whilst reading. I just love how he is so tired and has been to so many places and yet still cannot out run himself, his enemies let alone rest. For over two years at that intensity - it makes me simply exhausted to think of it. To truly vanish is such a hard thing to do, let alone when you just cannot repress something entirely unique (flaws and all). Yet he is all the time, hiding things and holding everything back - I've had that moment of being unable to remember a word in English without some very complex moves to regain it, it is oddly distressing. By the end, where he can let John give him his own name in the delirium of pain as compared to the myriad identities he struggles to keep up with... tragic.
The imagery is just stunning, of travel and of the sheer danger involved in going through Tibet, India and how reliant you become on just what you carry with you. The final scenes of him staggering, ill, through the countryside and his meditations on addiction are rather breathtaking. So much so that I think I am going to post this and go read it again. Just wonderful, thank you.