Maybe we shouldn’t meet again. Tengo stared up at the ceiling. Wasn’t it better if they kept this desire to see each other hidden within them, and never actually got together? That way, there would always be hope in their hearts. That hope would be a small, yet vital flame that warmed them to their core-a tiny flame to cup one’s hands around and protect from the wind, a flame tat the violent winds of reality might easily extinguish.
—1Q84, Haruki Murakami
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