Things happen that are similar to questions. A minute goes by, or years, and then life answers back.
from the book "Lands of Glass" by Alessandro Baricco
Things happen that are similar to questions. A minute goes by, or years, and then life answers back.
Because there was something, between those two, something that in reality had to be a secret, or something like that. So it was hard understanding what they told each other and how they lived, and how they were. You could've raked your brains trying to give a sense to some of their gestures. And you could've asked yourself why for years and years. The only thing that often appeared evident, actually almost always, and maybe forever, the only thing was that in what they did and in what they said there was something - so to speak - of beautiful.
I, who wasn't able to descend this boat, to save myself I descended from my life. Step after step. And every step was a wish. For every step I took, a wish I was saying goodbye to.
I'm not mad, brother. We're not mad when we find a way of saving each other. We're cunning like hungry animals. Madness has nothing to do with it. That's genius. It's geometry. Perfection. Wishes were tearing my soul apart. I could live them, but I didn't manage.
So I enchanted them. And one by one I left them behind me. Geometry. A perfect job.