“It was like we were all so busy trying to be happy or saying we were happy, but underneath there was nothing but bitterness, the kind that could only be bled out in ink, in unspoken word.”
“We were always together. And we were happy. Looking at clouds. Rocking on the swings. Lying in the sun. We loved being busy doing nothing.”
“We are never happy; we can only remember that we were so once.”
“In the fifties… we were so busy being cool that we didn’t know how to say the word love”
“We were so happy.”
“We cried and sobbed and wept and bled tears. But when we were finished, all we could do was continue living.”