#011
It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls,
but only that we had loved them, and that they hadn't heard us calling, still
do not hear us, up here in the tree house, with our thinning hair and soft
bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all
time, alone in suicide, which is deeper than death, and where we will never
find the pieces to put them together.
(P. 248/249)
Gänsehaut. Wer einmal das Buch gelesen und/oder den Film gesehen hat, weiß vielleicht wovon ich spreche.
highway51 - 11. Dez, 22:23
