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“Everything that sounds that good is too good to be true,” Moti answered. “And even if it weren’t, nothing here lasts. Not cities. Not empires. Not moons.” He inhaled slowly, painfully. “I already brought you back,” he continued. “Almost every night. In ink. In memory. In the way I still argue with you when I can’t sleep. That’s enough. It hurts. But it’s real.” Shuki stepped closer still. “You’d choose pain?” “Yes.” The word came without hesitation. “If I lose the pain,” Moti said, “I lose what it meant to love you. To love them. I’d be something else. Some hollow thing getting used to losing the same people twice.” — Džana Todosijević
Everything that sounds that good is too good to be true,” Moti answered. “And even if it weren’t, nothing here lasts. Not cities. Not empires. Not moons.”
He inhaled slowly, painfully.
“I already brought you back,” he continued. “Almost every night. In ink. In memory. In the way I still argue with you when I can’t sleep. That’s enough. It hurts. But it’s real.”
Shuki stepped closer still. “You’d choose pain?”
“Yes.”
The word came without hesitation.
“If I lose the pain,” Moti said, “I lose what it meant to love you. To love them. I’d be something else. Some hollow thing getting used to losing the same people twice.