Amanda || eastofreaden

“Isaac was buried in a pocketless shroud, six hundred yards from his wife of two hundred thousand hours.”
― Jonathan Safran Foer, Here I Am

“Arnold sat on his porch, watching the sun die a phoenix death, bruising the clouds as it struggled to stay afloat in the evening sky.”
― Kealan Patrick Burke, The Number 121 to Pennsylvania & Others

“And later that year he would say *to* his father what for years he had been saying *about* him. He would smoke a bushel of pot, watch his knee bend the wrong way during a stupid touch-football game, be inexplicably moved to tears in a foreign city by a painting of a woman and her baby, touch a hibernating brown bear and an endangered pangolin, spend a week waiting for a test result, pray silently for his wife's life as she screamed as new life came out of her body -- many moments when life felt big, precious. But they made up such an utterly small portion of his time on earth. Five minutes a year? What did it sum to? A day? At most? A day of feeling alive in four decades of life?”
― Jonathan Safran Foer, Here I Am

“... shivers that settled in his belly and stayed there like moths in a jar.”
― Kealan Patrick Burke, The Number 121 to Pennsylvania & Others