Marty:Talk to me, Rust.
Rust:There was a moment, I know, when I was under in the dark, that somethin
g… whatever I’d been reduced to, not even consciousness, just a vague awar
eness in the dark. I could feel my definitions fading. And beneath that dark
ness there was another kind—it was deeper—warm, like a substance. I could
feel man, I knew, I knew my daughter waited for me, there. So clear. I could
feel her. I could feel … I could feel the peace of my Pop, too. It was lik
e I was part of everything that I have ever loved, and we were all, the thre
e of us, just fading out. And all I had to do was let go, man. And I did. I
said, ‘Darkness, yeah.’ and I disappeared. But I could still feel her love
there. Even more than before. Nothing. Nothing but that love. And then I wo
ke up.
Marty:Didn’t you tell me one time, dinner once, maybe, about how you used t
o ... you used to make up stories about the stars?
Rust:Yeah, that was in Alaska, under the night skies.
Marty:Yeah, you used to lay there and look up, at the stars?
Rust:Yeah, I think you remember how I never watched the TV until I was 17, s
o there wasn’t much to do up there but walk around, explore, and...
Marty:And look up at the stars and make up stories. Like what?
Rust:I tell you Marty I been up in that room looking out those windows every
night here just thinking, it’s just one story. The oldest.
Marty:What’s that?
Rust:Light versus dark.
Marty:Well, I know we ain’t in Alaska, but it appears to me that the dark h
as a lot more territory.
Rust:Yeah, you’re right about that.
