What if I’ve forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud?...the thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow.
Haruki MurakamiMy arm was not what she needed, but the arm of someone else. My warmth was not what she needed, but the warmth of someone else.
Haruki Murakami