cami

“Why does the night have to be so beautiful?
As I walked through the night, I remember what Mitsutsuka said to me.
"Because at night, only half the world remains."
I count the lights. All the lights of the night.
The red light at the intersection, trembling as if wet, even though it isn't raining. Streetlight after streetlight. Taillights trailing off into the distance. The soft glow of the windows.
Phones in the hands of people just arriving home, and people just about to go somewhere. Why is the night so beautiful? Why does it shine the way it does? Why is the night made up entirely of light? The music flows from the earphones filling my ears, filling me it becomes everything. A lullaby. A gorgeous piano lullaby. What a wonderful piece of music. It really is. It's my favorite piece by Chopin. Did you like it too, Fuyuko? Yeah. It's like the night is breathing. Like the sound of melted light. (The light at night is special because the overwhelming light of day has left us, and the remaining half draws on everything it has to keep the world around us bright.) You're right, Mitsutsuka. It isn't anything, but it's so beautiful that I could cry.”
― Mieko Kawakami, All the Lovers in the Night

“He loves her.
Of this he's certain.
He loves her laugh; that sharp, sudden sound; the cynical laugh that always comes too quick, like it's ripped out of her. He loves her quick, confident grin. He loves her resilience, her bravery, even her impulsiveness.
She's everything he's not: unbound, reckless, free. He's never known anyone like her.
She terrifies him, and he loves her so much it hurts.
In all of his worst nightmares, she's dying. She's fading away in his arms, helpless and whimpering, while hot, dark blood spills over his fingers.
This he tells her. He doesn't tell her that his hand holds the blade.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Burning God

“It took witnessing it happening, in person, for me to realize all the abstractions were real. And, even then, I tried my hardest to look away. It’s hard to accept what you don’t want to see.”
― R.F. Kuang, Babel

“You asked how large my sorrow is. And I answered, like a river in spring flowing east.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Dragon Republic