when I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. everything moved me. a dog following a stranger. that made me feel so much. a calendar that showed the wrong month. i could have cried over it. i did. where the smoke from a chimney ended. how an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. i spent my life learning to feel less. every day I felt less. is that growing old? or is it something worse
/ jonathan safran foer, extremely loud and incredibly close/