That first part is not exactly what James was asking, of course, and at first he isn't sure if Zane is avoiding giving an explanation for the stranger implications by focusing on the tragic but more mundane event, but then Zane continues. It doesn't quite make sense, but he's focused a little less on the words and more on how Zane is saying it; the soft tone, the eye contact, the change in posture. What he's saying is important and meaningful to him, and that's clear enough even if James doesn't quite understand what he's actually saying.
Stories, again, are a running theme, and one that's shared between them. But although James is certainly aware of the power of stories, of presenting events and tales in a certain way, of the illusion--and in some senses, reality--that can be created. But that's a matter of perception, of belief, not reality. James can tell a story of something that he's experienced, and he can twist and alter it to get the reaction and response that he wants, but it doesn't change what actually happened. There's still a truth there, even if it's hidden.
What Zane's talking about feels like something more. Water is not a part of telling stories, not specifically at least, and not in an inherent way that would make this understandable as a metaphor. But it is another perhaps coincidental, perhaps strange, shared connection; James had nearly drowned attempting to rescue someone from dangerous waters, though it had been a river, and ultimately both James and the man he'd been trying to save had survived. Still, that had simply been because James is a strong swimmer, and there had been boats around that eventually been able to assist. It had nothing to do with the water itself, or making or unmaking any sort of story.
"Make and unmake in what sense?" Although he hadn't been speaking particularly loudly before, he finds his own voice has softened as well, matching the strange shift in tone of the conversation. He doesn't know if he's buying into this, but he wants to understand all the same.
no subject
Stories, again, are a running theme, and one that's shared between them. But although James is certainly aware of the power of stories, of presenting events and tales in a certain way, of the illusion--and in some senses, reality--that can be created. But that's a matter of perception, of belief, not reality. James can tell a story of something that he's experienced, and he can twist and alter it to get the reaction and response that he wants, but it doesn't change what actually happened. There's still a truth there, even if it's hidden.
What Zane's talking about feels like something more. Water is not a part of telling stories, not specifically at least, and not in an inherent way that would make this understandable as a metaphor. But it is another perhaps coincidental, perhaps strange, shared connection; James had nearly drowned attempting to rescue someone from dangerous waters, though it had been a river, and ultimately both James and the man he'd been trying to save had survived. Still, that had simply been because James is a strong swimmer, and there had been boats around that eventually been able to assist. It had nothing to do with the water itself, or making or unmaking any sort of story.
"Make and unmake in what sense?" Although he hadn't been speaking particularly loudly before, he finds his own voice has softened as well, matching the strange shift in tone of the conversation. He doesn't know if he's buying into this, but he wants to understand all the same.