"Perhaps it's true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcomes of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house -- the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture -- must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story".
//Arundhati Roy; The God of Small Things
things can change in a very short period of time. in the space of a few days, a four year relationship can be given up and made into nothing. the chain of a thought broken, the fragment of a love story shattered. it's hard to believe that just one term ago, they were practically glued together at the hip, hanging out in meetings together and collecting tickets to help complete each other's projects.
love is such a strange, slippery thing.
why didn't they teach us that in school? how can we have so many divergent answers to a question as simple as happiness? shouldn't the measure of a good man be like a precedent fact, where there is space for discretion and subjective discernment but in the end, in the end, open to objective ascertainment of that fact? shouldn't we be taught how to open our eyes to hold on to what we have been blessed with and not give it up for those who pass us by? shouldn't the people who have been the most faithful spared the brunt of the hurt and the pain?
perhaps, perhaps Jo is right. who are we to say anything when we're not in the situation? afterall, things can change in a day and anything can happen to anyone, it's best to be prepared.
"Perhaps it's true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcomes of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house -- the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture -- must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story".
//Arundhati Roy; The God of Small Things
things can change in a very short period of time. in the space of a few days, a four year relationship can be given up and made into nothing. the chain of a thought broken, the fragment of a love story shattered. it's hard to believe that just one term ago, they were practically glued together at the hip, hanging out in meetings together and collecting tickets to help complete each other's projects.
love is such a strange, slippery thing.
why didn't they teach us that in school? how can we have so many divergent answers to a question as simple as happiness? shouldn't the measure of a good man be like a precedent fact, where there is space for discretion and subjective discernment but in the end, in the end, open to objective ascertainment of that fact? shouldn't we be taught how to open our eyes to hold on to what we have been blessed with and not give it up for those who pass us by? shouldn't the people who have been the most faithful spared the brunt of the hurt and the pain?
perhaps, perhaps Jo is right. who are we to say anything when we're not in the situation? afterall, things can change in a day and anything can happen to anyone, it's best to be prepared.
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