“Grief is a most peculiar thing”

Grief is a most peculiar thing, we’re so helpless in the face of it. It’s like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it.

Memoirs of a Geisha. Arthur Golden.

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