Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world, it wasn’t the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.
I want to quote the entirety of Jonathan Safran Foer‘s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Yes, it is a difficult book to write about, to talk about — Having read it, feeling the need to speak about it in any way one can: The recourse is to tell as many people as possible, “Please read this book.” So, well, I won’t even try, not now. I won’t even try, beyond: It was AwesomeSauce. And, of course, “Please read this book.”
I am opening my left hand: YES. That is all for now.