"Look at that,' she whispered, and then after a moment: 'I'd like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around."

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Memory is like patches of sunlight in an overcast valley, shifting with the movement of the clouds. Now and then the light will fall on a particular point in time, illuminating it for a moment before the wind seals up the gap, and the world is in shadows again.

— Tan Twan Eng