when i was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. everything moved me. a dog following a stranger. that made me feel so much. a calender that showed the wrong month. i could have cried over it. i did. where the smoke from the chimney ended. how an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. i spent my life learning to feel less. every day i felt less. is that growing old? or is it something worse? you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.
-jonathan safran foer "extremely loud and incredibly close."
that book = SO good.
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