He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.
She was the book thief without the words.
Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.
I was fifteen once and as vague as it may sound, I can still hear the voices ricocheting off the hollow chambers, relentlessly, as if caught in a limbo. I ought to be the toughest fifteen years old as the boy named something had so ardently reminded me and kept reminding me again and again.
Meaning has long been lost in mad ramblings and the boy has long been straitjacketed in the back-pockets of coherence. Your mind can play tricks on you though and all of a sudden you start picking up nuances that haven't really been there so far...gaps and missing pieces are what hold you together and when nothing else makes sense that's when life comes into full view as we float endlessly 'bodies without organs'...
..so yeah that time I asked my wife you want to hang out in a Virginia ghost town and she without hesitation said yes! After already coming back from a 10 hour drive from Tennessee. Yeah she bad lol. That #blackandwhitemood again