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Showing posts from December, 2011

Natasha McElhone Says

Time is striding on, crunching, squelching through every new season. I want to pull it back, scream at it, say, “What the f*** are you doing? How dare you leave him behind? We must stay, stay back in those moments where he was still warm, where all hope of him coming back hadn’t faded, where we still felt the impact of his actions eddying around us, where the hum of him still reverberated. . .”

And I agree.