Gregisdead121 ’s Reviews > The Discomfort of Evening > Status Update

When I once stood on a spider in
Granny’s sheltered housing that didn’t have a shelter, Granny said,
‘Death is a process that disintegrates into actions and actions into phases.
Death never just happens to you, there is always something that causes it.
This time it was you. You can kill too.’

"Every loss contains all previous attempts
to hang on to something you didn’t want to lose but had to let go of
anyway, from a marble bag filled with the most beautiful marbles and
rare shooters, to my brother. We find ourselves in loss and we are who we
are – vulnerable beings, like stripped starling chicks that fall naked from
their nests and hope they’ll be picked up again. "

"The teacher told us during the
history lesson that Hitler had fallen through ice when he was four and
had been saved by a priest, that some people can fall through ice and it’s
better if they’re not rescued. I wondered then why a bad person like
Hitler could be saved and not my brother. Why the cows had to die while
they hadn’t done anything wrong."

"Death announces itself in most cases, but we’re
often the ones who don’t want to see or hear it. "

Weird fucking book,the hell?!?

"I promise to take you to the lake one day. Then we’ll float away
together on a lily-pad, and maybe, only maybe, I’ll even dare to take off
my coat. Even though it will feel uncomfortable for a while, but
according to the pastor, discomfort is good. In discomfort we are real."

"The tension makes me poke my little finger up my
nose and hook a piece of snot. I glance at the yellowish ball [...]I quickly move my arm back down, push my tongue back into
my throat as far as it can go and snort. It works. Snot fills my mouth so
that I can swallow again."

"Belle used her fountain pen to make a full stop after the title on her
page. I wanted to be that blue dot for a moment. And then for there to be
nothing else after me. No lists, thoughts or longings. Just nothing at all."

"Nobody knows my heart. It’s hidden deep beneath my coat, my skin,
my ribs. My heart was important for nine months inside my mother’s
belly, but once I left the belly, everyone stopped caring whether it beat
enough times per hour. No one worries when it stops or begins to beat
fast, telling me there must be something wrong."