Traveling said to me, you can't have too many amulets. Yer heart won't know which one to be loyal to. Yer dead uncle's towin' you one end uh the anchor caught. The hole in his coffin, see, same hole yer grandfather poured the champagne down 'fore they pushed him off into the sea. An' he's pulling you down like a crane, yeah, to the basement, five miles off of Key West. You never felt no attachment to Key West, did you?
No.
Even with everything they told you 'bout the Hemingway cats an' the circus gang. Even with the island trees an' Southern Porches, it never was yer home. You liked it fine, but you left soon after, an' you didn't fret about it none. Yer not suppose tuh be there. When yer grandmother gave you that cord, she gave you that part uh her grief. She was caught there too on thuh champagne hole. She felt uh little better when she gave you that chain. She didn't tell you, but she thought about it that night when she woke up an' started reading her books. It's okay, she needed to give you some uh the chain.