“So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal
the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from
us—that’s snatched right out of our hands—even if we are left
completely changed people with only the outer layer of skin
from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in
silence. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time,
bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often
adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a
feeling of immeasurable emptiness.”
the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from
us—that’s snatched right out of our hands—even if we are left
completely changed people with only the outer layer of skin
from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in
silence. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time,
bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often
adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a
feeling of immeasurable emptiness.”
| — | haruki murakami |
