Beste
@bruya
3 okur puanı
Eylül 2023 tarihinde katıldı
Şu anda okuduğu kitap
Friends come in and out of your life like waiters in a restaurant. But when I think of that dream, the swollen dead bodies under the water pulling at my legs, it seems right that friends should come and go. Some people drown. It's not fair, but it happens. Some people drown.
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
That was what finally made me realize that the guy was dead. He wasn't ill, he wasn't sleeping. He wasn't going to get up in the morning any more, or eat too many apples, or worry about school exams. He was dead, completely dead. He wasn't going to go out with his friends in the spring to collect bottles uncovered by the departing snow. He wasn't going to get into fights in the playground. He wasn't going to pull a single girl's hair. He was everything like wasn't, can't, don't, shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't. He was one big not. He was dead. I could go on all day and not explain the distance between his bare feet on the ground and his dirty shoes hanging on the bush. It was about three feet, it was millions and millions of miles. He was disconnected from his shoes and there was no hope of reconnection. He was dead.
''This is really a good time,'' Vern said simply. He didn't mean just being here in the dump or going for a walk up the tracks. All that was only part of it. Everything was there and around us. We knew exactly who we were and exactly where we were going in life. It was great.
He grinned. 'Not if I see you first.'
He walked off, still laughing, as if he didn't hurt like me and wasn't covered in insect bites; as if he didn't have a care in the world, and wasn't returning to a dirty three-room house with no running water and broken windows covered with plastic
Even if I had known the right thing to say I probably couldn't have said it. Talking destroys the effects of love. Love isn't soft, like those poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close. No word can close those love-bites. In fact, if the wounds dry up, the words will stop too.