it's /me

the other side of /me

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Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage

One heart is not connected to another through harmony alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds. Pain linked to pain, fragility to fragility. There is no silence without a cry of grief, no forgiveness without bloodshed, no acceptance without a passage through acute loss. That is what lies at the root of true harmony.

Filed under colorless tsukuru tazaki and his years of pilgrim haruki murakami