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For what is the point of having someting lovely if you never share it?
Når det regner, husker jeg, står det skrevet nederst.
But if you were Matched," I say softly, "What do you think she'd be like?" "You," he says, almost before I've finished. "You.
Hvert minutt du bruker sammen med et annet menneske, gir du dem en del av livet ditt, og tar litt av deres.
The sun shines down on me where I have chosen to stand. No trees, no shade, no hight from which I can look down on what I've done. And even if there were, I cannot see for the tears.
I'll tell her and everyone else that I know: they are giving us pieces of a real life instead of the whole thing. And I'll tell her that I don't want my life to be samples and scraps. A taste of everything but a meal of nothing.
There's more to say, but we're learning how to speak.