People's memories are maybe the fuel they burn to stay alive.
There has to be pain. That's the rule.
It's basically impossible for everybody's justice to prevail or everybody's happiness to triumph, so chaos takes over.
It was a narrow world, a world that was standing still. But the narrower it became, the more it betook of stillness, the more this world that enveloped me seemed to overflow with things and people that could only be called strange. They had been there all the while, it seemed, waiting in the shadows for me to stop moving. And every time the wind-up bird came to my yard to wind its spring, the world descendedmore deeply into chaos.
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