This silence in particular was composed of a refrigerator just stopped humming, a tea kettle just off the boil, a phone just hung up, a pencil put down. In this silence were all of the things that would never be said, all of the games that would never be played, all of the stories that would never be told, all of the flowers that would never bloom. In its way, it was a silence identical to all other silences, full equally of potential and loss, and yet this silence hung overhead as an impenetrable fog.
Strongly disapprove of the conclusion of Elegance of the Hedgehog. Strongly.
forty days and forty nights and I need an ark