My Struggle: Book 4

by Karl Ove Knausgård

Outside it was dark, autumn was wrapping its hand around the world, and I loved it. The darkness, the rain, the sudden cracks in the past that opened when the smell of damp grass and soil rose up at me from a ditch somewhere or when car headlights illuminated a house, all somehow caught and enhanced by the music in the Walkman I always carried with me.

We don’t live our lives alone, but that doesn’t mean we see those alongside whom we live our lives.