she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn't feelalone.
But how can one regret what, to the mind, has never existed? Even loss is an inaccurate description, for what loss is without the awareness of losing?
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But how can one regret what, to the mind, has never existed? Even loss is an inaccurate description, for what loss is without the awareness of losing?
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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
With some stories, you really can't rush things. And it's often best just to sit back and enjoy the journey for what it is.
Don__ you think it__ actually harder for you . . . to adapt, I mean? Because you__e done all that stuff?___re you asking me if I wish I'd never done it?_____ just wondering if it would have been easier for you. If you__ led a smaller life. To live like this, I mean.___ will never, ever regret the things I've done. Because most days, if you__e stuck in one of these, all you have are the places n your memory that you can go to._ He smiled. It was tight, as if it cost him. __o if you__e asking me would I rather be reminiscing about the view of the caste from the minimart, or that lovely row of shops down off the roundabout, then, no. My life was just fine, thanks.