This is huge, even too much; beautiful, funny, interesting, seminal. A wonderful novel, so fantastic and so deeply true.
Henry and Clare, timeless love, the mystery of life and death, of permanence and existence, of each here-and-now hopping through an unpredictable timeline.
He time-travels, she waits for him in her present, but she's already met him somewhere in the past and will find him again in the future. His lifestream is uneven as its tale, but time- and age-hints heading each chapter help the reader through it.
Actually, human beings are chrono-displaced by default; our emotional memory is, at any rate. Henry, in a way, embodies this condition.
Compelling as the plot is, it also carves our soul, affecting all that really really matters. Pulse, wishes, fulfilment, and frustration. Magic and loss, the bittersweet taste of this everyday adventure, whose true essence seems to glimpse at our life now and then, brightening hard times with enchantment every time we realize that time is nothing.
I promised I won't sigh
too much at our sweet memories
although I miss your wings
around and all our melodies,
your drowning in my eyes
the stars that make you smile
our white connecting strings
my dearest butterfly.
That girl was God's down payment for paradise.
Een mooie vlinderfee wrote me:
"can't imagine that luck and love is not in the near future
but you need to have peace inside of you again...
more rest in your heart, peace with your life right now,
not thinking of how it could be or should be...
finding luck and love in the little things"
I'll keep that in mind, I promise, but I won't stop cherishing my sweetest memories. Zoen
A mistress of spices came out of my dreams to write me.
One more evidence that some kind of magic can never die.
At least until our deepest cells keep singing...
I feel nice
like sugar and spice
My legs are hurting 'cause my muscles shout out loud, yet this is a pain that makes me smile.
Stars are out again, so beautiful. I linger in wonder, then come back in. Stars are out again. So beautiful, so far away.
I could have just enjoyed what was there, but I decided to call you from behind your eyes. That was the time it all began, I guess.
You could have turned your glance away, and maybe you did try, but your eyes were born for truth, for you to be true to yourself. And you still had to learn how to spread your wings by then. So you chose to fly through wordwaves for a while.
That's how and when our innermost channels started to open, our spiritual fluids were allowed to flow inside out and around, each single cell was awakened to lightness, thus bringing our souls to silently melt while we thought to be asleep.
...
I was happy to make stars with you. I am glad we met in this life. Here's smiling at you, kid.
I finished it at the end of April and re-read it between June and July.
It spoke to me, linking everything to everything else, inside and outside, with white strings made of words, with words made of feelings, with feelings made of everywaves, connecting each nowhere to everywhere inside and outside.
