So is there no fact, no event, in our private history, which shall not, sooner or later, lose its adhesive, inert form, and astonish us by soaring from our body into the empyrean. Cradle and infancy, school and playground, the fear of boys, and dogs, and ferules, the love of little maids and berries, and many another fact that once filled the whole sky, are gone already; friend and relative profession and party, town and country, nation and world, must also soar and sing.
“When it happens you don’t expect it. You don’t expect anything anymore. You lose your head for just a second and someone walks into your life, turns it upside down, tenderly, brutally, making a place for himself. Even before anything has happened it’s already too late. You can’t tell who is choosing whom, when, how, why. You only know these things later when everything is over and each person holds the other accountable for what has gone on.“
Yves Navarre | Our Share of Time