Dhruv Kaith’s Reviews > Men Without Women > Status Update
Dhruv Kaith
is 52% done
3. An independent organ
"The deep sense of loss after you have met the woman you love, made love. Then said goodbye."
Love like quick sand devours you. Even if you're aware that it's happening, you can't conciously restraint it. It takes us to new heights, thrusts us to deep depths. Throws our mind into chaos, illusions. Even drives us to death.
— Mar 31, 2022 10:28AM
"The deep sense of loss after you have met the woman you love, made love. Then said goodbye."
Love like quick sand devours you. Even if you're aware that it's happening, you can't conciously restraint it. It takes us to new heights, thrusts us to deep depths. Throws our mind into chaos, illusions. Even drives us to death.
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Dhruv ’s Previous Updates
Dhruv Kaith
is 35% done
2. Yesterday
"When I'm not with him, I feel a pain in my chest. It's always the same place like it's a place reserved for him."
How murakami gets people to talk to each other about mundane stuff is whimsical. Everything's so close that it's comparable to your own life yet feels so far away. How intimacy and relationships are portrayed in this short story feels so real and sad.
— Mar 30, 2022 08:23AM
"When I'm not with him, I feel a pain in my chest. It's always the same place like it's a place reserved for him."
How murakami gets people to talk to each other about mundane stuff is whimsical. Everything's so close that it's comparable to your own life yet feels so far away. How intimacy and relationships are portrayed in this short story feels so real and sad.
Dhruv Kaith
is 20% done
1. Drive my car
-"Tobacco's a killer."
-"Being alive is a killer."
Image of the one you love in someone else's arms. It like demon with nowhere to go clinging to corner of ceiling, eyes fixed on you.
It's something so bitter and Murakami manages to capture it in all it's ugliness everytime.
— Mar 29, 2022 10:19AM
-"Tobacco's a killer."
-"Being alive is a killer."
Image of the one you love in someone else's arms. It like demon with nowhere to go clinging to corner of ceiling, eyes fixed on you.
It's something so bitter and Murakami manages to capture it in all it's ugliness everytime.
