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And even though the sky was overcast and grey, the light over the countryside shimmered and was perfectly white.
The way the whiteness erases all the detail around a lake or a river in the forest so that the difference between land and water is absolute, and the water lies there as a deeply alien entity, a black hole in the world.
something to do with the distance between the inside and the outside worlds arose then, something that I liked so much; when I saw all the drunken faces of people who had gathered by the bars it was as if they existed in a different dimension from mine, the same applied to the cars driving by,
No, what I was waiting and lived for was the hand that lightly caressed my shoulder, it was the smile that lit up her face whenever she saw me or I said something funny, it was the hug and the embrace when we met as friends after school. The few seconds there, when I put my arms around her and felt her cheek against mine, the scent of her, the shampoo she used, its faint apple fragrance.
Feelings are like water, they always adapt to their surroundings. Not even the worst grief leaves traces; when it feels so overwhelming and lasts for such a long time, it is not because the feelings have set, they can’t do that, they stand still, the way water in a forest mere stands still.
for the moment occupied by the poem, which its originator read in its place of origin, was so much greater than us, it belonged to infinity, and how could we, so young and no cleverer than three sparrows, receive it? We could not, and at any rate I squirmed as he read. It was almost more than I could endure. A joke would have been apposite, at least to lend the everyday life in which we were trapped some kind of form. Oh the beauty of it, how to deal with it? How to meet it?
