Josh thought that human beings are strange creatures. They are many different things all at once, and they feel so many contrasting emotions.
Love and hate, joy and dispair, courage and fear. As if they were great turning discs, of possible and imaginable colours, upon which the light constantly moves, dancing. It divides again all those faces, young and old, that laughed and cried. As if age didn't count: at seventeen of seventy, the disc was always there, spinning away. Maybe as time went by it always became slightly more simple to recognise colours and to know with certainty what you were looking at and what it meant.
from the book "" by Nicholas Evans
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