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Quote by Jonny Sun

“The more you grow as a person, the more homes you find, the more homes you make, the more homes you share. Each return to a home you once left becomes a realization that it takes up a smaller and smaller place among all the homes you now know. It’s only natural to feel like you’re being torn into pieces.”

Quote by Jonny Sun

Work

Goodbye, Again: Essays, Reflections, and Illustrations

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Author

Jonny Sun

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“Cuando el pelotón lo apuntó, la rabia se había materializado en una sustancia viscosa y amarga que le adormeció la lengua y lo obligó a cerrar los ojos. Entonces desapareció el resplandor de aluminio del amanecer, y volvió a verse a sí mismo, muy niño, con pantalones cortos y un lazo en el cuello, y vio a su padre en una tarde espléndida conduciéndolo al interior de la carpa, y vio el hielo.”

“That childhood adventure would not soon slip away. It quickened an understanding that he and I shared whenever we were side by side, either on the water or at the fireplace. Not exactly a secret, it was simply an experience that had little meaning for most others. Yet, for us it was invaluable. Recalling it made the more trying moments of life in the city much easier to endure.”

“Perhaps Perhaps, one day, we’ll cross each other’s path, Not by design, but some strange twist of fate. You’ll glance, and I will feel the world go still. Your eyes will find mine—soft, unreadable— And in that gaze, my chest will tighten fast, A fluttered breath I cannot hold inside. I’ll wonder then, do you still see through me? That way you did, as if my soul were glass, No secrets veiled, no walls I’d ever built— As though my silence whispered all to you. I’ll stand there, caught between what was and is, A moment wrapped in quiet, aching heat. Old feelings, like a tide, will rise again, Beyond the grasp of reason or of will. I will not move, nor will I turn away, And yet, I will not speak. I’ll let it pass. But I won’t cry—not there, not in your sight. The tears, if any come, will wait till dusk, Or till the echo fades within my chest. I’ll walk away, alone, but not the same— Still holding something wordless, undefined. A hope, perhaps? Or just the ghost of it.”