How many times have you gotten into an argument with a friend, colleague or family member—or, even worse, with a stranger on social media—and stated what you thought was a clear-cut fact, only to hear the response, “Well, that’s your view”, or “That’s one way of looking at it”? These responses—often polite, sometimes aggressive—are examples of the insidious and disturbingly common phenomenon of ‘post-truth’. Defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief,” post-truth has become so prevalent that the term was ‘word of the year’ in 2016. Have we moved too far away from objective truth, to the extent that even proven facts about the world can be conveniently dismissed if we don’t like them?
Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but the paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his weakened powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation were necessary to restore his composure. Having conquered the violence of his feelings, he appeared to despise himself for being the slave of passion; and quelling the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to converse concerning myself personally.
Sayfa 16
Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health but is very silent and appears uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin. Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle that the sailors are all interested in him, although they have had very little communication with him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother, and his constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so attractive and amiable. I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.
Sayfa 15
"Umarım kahvenin tadının büyülü geldiği günlerin olur.
Müzik listenin, seni dans ettirdiği
Bir yabancının seni gülümsettiği
Ve gökyüzünün, ruhuna dokunduğu günler.
Umarım hayatta olmaya yeniden aşık olursun..."
•
"I hope there are days where your coffe tastes like magic, your playlist makes you dance, a stranger makes you smile and the night sky touches your soul.
I hope you fall in love with being alive again..."
❝Onlara açıklama yapmak hoşuma gitmedi, bu yüzden çenemi kapadım, bir sigara içtim ve denize baktım.❞
Albert Camus , The Stranger
I laugh out a cry and run at him, launching myself into his strong arms that instantly wrap around me.
“You’re mine, Malachi. You’re mine and I’m yours and I love you more than words can explain. Please forgive me. Please. I want you. I want to be with you, build a life with you, and make memories with you. I want to wake up every morning with you by my side. I want you to chase me through these woods and take me against a tree. I want everything you have to give. All of it. Everything. Because I chose you. I—”
Malachi kisses me into silence.
He grins against my lips. “I love you, Olivia.”
I giggle and wrap my legs around his waist, my face sore from how hard I’m smiling. “I love you too. Will you take me inside our home and show me how much you love me?”
He shakes his head and drops me to my feet. “I want to rip that fucking dress from your body then make you bleed all over it.”
Butterflies are going wild inside me, my chest rising and falling with anticipation. “I dare you,” I tease. “I dare you to chase me and make me beg for it.”
Malachi groans and snatches my jaw, pressing a harsh kiss to my mouth before shoving me back, grinning and gesturing to the woods.
“Run, little stranger.”
I hate this girl so much!
Something weird is happening to me. My chest is sore, and my eyes feel immense pressure, and they’re… wet. I think I might be crying for the first time in my life.
She opens the door, but I rush in front of her, blocking her exit as I drop to my knees and grab her hands. “Olivia,” I whisper clearly. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay with me.”
Her sadness is all over her face—she’s looking at me like I’m the one breaking her heart, her eyes following a tear as it slides down my cheek.
“Please,” I beg. “Accept my v-version of love. Pl-ease. I love you, Ol-l-l—”
Olivia doesn’t tell me she loves me back, or that she’ll stay. She just gives me a warm smile and pulls her hand away before squeezing past me.
I never thought I would want to cry while reading this book...
I stay against the wall, my hands behind me, and try to think of everything possible to make her stay. Willingly. I want Olivia to choose me.
Please choose me.
Nobody ever chooses me.
Malachi.Kitabı okudu
She rolls her eyes. “You were the one leaving chocolates and flowers in my house?”
Yes, I sign. I also fucked you while you were unconscious on your bathroom floor.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you sign that.”
You wrote in your journal that you wanted to experience somnophilia. You came on my cock and everything. Tick it off your little list.