“For a moment, Layla glanced at Amar’s journals, but she could barely make sense of his handwriting. Each deciphered sentence threatened to unravel her understanding of him and carried with it the threat of more secrets. It did not matter that she was his mother. What she could ever hope to know of him was just a glimpse – like the beam of a lighthouse skipping out, only one stretch of waves visible at a time, the rest left in the unknowable dark.”
