Chap­ter VII finds Addie LaRue reflect­ing deeply on her exis­tence as she walks through the bustling streets of New York City on a chilly March after­noon. The world around her swirls with the vibran­cy of life, yet she feels the weight of her cen­turies of soli­tude, a stark con­trast to the warmth that the city offers. As she pass­es by a street mar­ket, a famil­iar sight catch­es her eye—a worn and weath­ered book, its pages yel­lowed with age, call­ing out to her in a way only for­got­ten things can. Drawn to it, Addie picks it up, its pages seem­ing­ly alive with the lan­guage of sto­ries she hasn’t thought of in years. The words speak to her in a qui­et, inti­mate way, unlock­ing mem­o­ries of times gone by, of the many paths she’s wan­dered and the mag­ic she’s lived through. As she reads, she is remind­ed of the long and wind­ing jour­ney she has tak­en, and of the dark woods and deep­er mag­ic that seem to fol­low her wher­ev­er she goes. In the famil­iar tales, Addie finds both an echo of her own tri­als and a strange com­fort, as if the pages of the book are not only recount­ing sto­ries, but also offer­ing her a mir­ror of her own heartache, resilience, and sur­vival. The world around her seems to fade as she immers­es her­self in the book, and for a fleet­ing moment, she is lost in a time­less realm, sus­pend­ed between the present and the past.

As the gold­en light of the after­noon set­tles over the city, Addie feels a qui­et sor­row stir­ring with­in her. The warmth of spring is creep­ing clos­er, yet there’s a lin­ger­ing chill that keeps her ground­ed in the present, in the end­less days that seem to stretch out before her. She watch­es as the city moves around her, each per­son caught in their own sto­ry, unaware of the specter among them. In her soli­tude, Addie finds a bit­ter­sweet com­fort. There’s beau­ty in being alone, in silent­ly observ­ing the world’s con­stant motion, and yet, she can­not escape the lone­li­ness that clings to her like a shad­ow. As she sips her cof­fee and nib­bles on a muf­fin, Addie feels the weight of time press­ing against her, each pass­ing moment a reminder of the end­less years she has lived, and of the dis­tance that lies between her and the rest of human­i­ty. The world seems to be mov­ing for­ward, while she remains for­ev­er in the mar­gins, an invis­i­ble observ­er in a world that doesn’t remem­ber her.

After fin­ish­ing her cof­fee, Addie ris­es from her seat, stretch­ing her limbs that have car­ried her through cen­turies of expe­ri­ence. She moves through the city like a ghost, blend­ing into the crowds while remain­ing unseen, her steps light but pur­pose­ful. The park beck­ons her, offer­ing a brief respite from the weight of time, a promise of fleet­ing warmth before the last breath of win­ter. As she walks through the park, Addie is remind­ed of the many souls who share the same ground, each one car­ry­ing their own bur­dens, their own ghosts. She moves through them with­out a word, a qui­et pres­ence, yet one that is felt by those who pass her by. There is some­thing deeply poignant about these moments, the con­nec­tions she makes with­out ever tru­ly con­nect­ing. In the bus­tle of the city, Addie is both part of the world and entire­ly apart from it, a con­tra­dic­tion she has grown accus­tomed to over the years.

New York City, with its cease­less ener­gy and con­stant flux, is a fit­ting back­drop for Addie’s eter­nal jour­ney. The city mir­rors her own life, a relent­less search for mean­ing, for fleet­ing moments of con­nec­tion in a world that seems to con­stant­ly move for­ward with­out pause. As the day turns into evening, the city lights begin to flick­er on, cast­ing long shad­ows that stretch across the streets, and Addie is remind­ed of the del­i­cate bal­ance between her past and her future. She is a fig­ure of time­less youth, yet with eyes that have seen cen­turies pass. Her jour­ney is both end­less and cycli­cal, caught in a lim­i­nal space between the vis­i­ble and the invis­i­ble. As she walks through the city, Addie is remind­ed that her sto­ry is not just one of sur­vival, but of the moments in between—those fleet­ing con­nec­tions, those qui­et obser­va­tions, that make her life mean­ing­ful in a world that moves relent­less­ly for­ward, indif­fer­ent to the con­stants like Addie. The chap­ter cap­tures the essence of the eter­nal and the ephemer­al, weav­ing a tapes­try of the ground­ed real­i­ty of city life and the ethe­re­al realm of Addie’s end­less jour­ney. Through the mun­dane actions of dai­ly life, Addie’s strug­gle for con­nec­tion and recog­ni­tion remains ever-present, even as the world around her remains unchanged.