Whoever met my brother wanted to take him home, to have him nearby laughing or speaking, to be Daniel, to touch him on the shoulder, to pinch his cheek (which he hated). He had the gentleness and ferocity of a serious little man. Well, tenderness attracts people in different ways, it tempts some to crush it, I recall, people often wanted to thrash him; it gets on some people's nerves. Being just a little different was always an excellent reason for something to be destroyed.

I see them: my older sister and my younger brother sitting arguing, their heads close together, so that Ma wouldn't hear them: side by side like that, they looked like a cactus and its flower.