Let me say something about the third girl I slept with. It’s hard enough to talk about someone who’s dead; harder still to talk about someone who died young. That’s because having died, she’s forever young. Whereas we who survive grow older year by year, month by month, day by day. Sometimes I swear I can even feel myself aging by the hour. And the frightening thing is it’s true.
Haruki Murakami, Hear the Wind Sing
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