Walk into the living room (which doubled as the Hubermanns’ bedroom), pull the accordion
I love the laughter of this night. Our footsteps run, and I don't want them to end. I want to run and laugh and feel like this forever. I want to avoid any awkward moment when the realness of reality...
Sola como estaba, carecía de la disciplina necesaria para mantenerse convenientemente alejada.
I have hated the words andI have loved them,and I hope I have made them right.
Pero créeme, las palabras estaban de camino, y cuando llegaron, Liesel las sujetó entre las manos como si fueran nubes y las escurrió como si estuvieran empapadas de lluvia.
So many humans. So many colours. They keep triggering inside me. They harass my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, all mounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like sett...
People observe the colours of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour c...
I also fear that nothing really ends at the end. Things just keep going as long as memory can wield its ax, always finding a soft part in your mind to cut through and enter.
People have defining moments, i suppose, especially when they're children.
PiecesSometimes there only seem to be clouds.Tonight, the clouds hang above me, sulking in the sky. They watch me write the words. I don’t even think they bother to read.I imagine myself in a room, wh...
They were virtuosos of alliteration and didn’t know it.
Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.
Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth. Clearly,
None of them had it. They had no qualms about stealing, but they needed to be told. They liked to be told, and Viktor Chemmel liked to be the teller. It was a nice microcosm.
Un asiento, dos hombres, una breve discusión y yo.A veces me mata ver cómo muere la gente.
Better that we leave the paint behind, Hans told her, than ever forget the music.
Two weeks to change the world, fourteen days to destroy it.
There was also a rumor that later in the day, she walked fully clothed into the Amper River and said something very strange.Something about a kiss.Something about a Saumensch.How many times did she ha...
¿No veis la herida que tengo dentro? ¿No veis cómo se extiende y me corroe ante vuestros ojos? No quiero volver a tener esperanzas.
Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces. Each half was glowing, and beating under all that white.
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