Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places. This one was sent out by the breath of an accordion, the odd taste of ch...
This isn’t about words. It’s about glowing lights and small things that are big.
They were eating in the kitchen. Looking at the spoonfuls of pea soup entering Mama’s mouth, she decided to shift her focus to Papa. There’s something
They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip—
They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip—the relative you cringe to kiss.
There were reasons to leave, and reasons to stay, and all of it was the same.
There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it had been empty.
There was once a strange small man but there was a word shaker too.
There was no recovery from what had happened. That would take decades; it would take a long life.
There are so many moments to remember and sometimes I think that maybe we're not really people at all. Maybe moments are what we are.... Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop...
There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.
Then came Hitler.
Their heartbeats fought each other, a mess of rhythm. Liesel tried to eat hers down. The taste of heart was not too cheerful.
The survivors. They’re the ones I can’t stand to look at, although on many occasions, I still fail. I deliberately seek out the colours to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones w...
The song was born on her breathe and died at her lips.
The soft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying onto the floor like powder.
The sky was white but deteriorating fast. As always, it was becoming an enormous drop sheet. Blood was bleeding through, and in patches, the clouds were dirty, like footprints in melting snow.Footprin...
The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.
The pain of WATCHING them!What about their pain?
The minutes were cruel. Hours were punishing. Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn’t hesitate to wring him out. It smiled and squeezed and let him live. Wha...