she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn't feelalone.
She wasn__ crying at all. This was what scared him the most. Where had she locked up the things he__ seen her feeling that day when she heard? She wasn__ that big a girl to hold all of it__o hold her brother__ life and his death inside of her. To hold all his long-limbed raging tidal motion and all the loss of that.
Wasteland
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She wasn__ crying at all. This was what scared him the most. Where had she locked up the things he__ seen her feeling that day when she heard? She wasn__ that big a girl to hold all of it__o hold her brother__ life and his death inside of her. To hold all his long-limbed raging tidal motion and all the loss of that.
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The practice of love offers no place of safety. We risk loss, hurt, pain. We risk being acted upon by forces outside our control.
Nos-tal-gic,_ Akira said, as though it were a word he had been struggling to find. Then he said a word in Japanese, perhaps the Japanese for __ostalgic._ __os-tal-gic. It is good to be nos-tal-gic. Very important.___eally, old fellow?___mportant. Very important. Nostalgic. When we nostalgic, we remember. A world better than this world we discover when we grow. We remember and wish good world come back again. So very important. Just now, I had dream. I was boy. Mother, Father, close to me. in our house.__e fell silent and continued to gaze across the rubble.__kira,_ I said, sensing that the longer this talk went on, the greater was some danger I did not wish fully to articulate. __e should move on. We have much to do.
I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room
There is no time for holding back.
Mine was the twilight and the morning. Mine was a world of rooftops and love songs.