まるで刻々と姿を変える夕方の空のように、いろいろな種類の別れに満ちたこの世の中を、ひとつも忘れたくないと思った。

The last day is way shorter than counting to ten.

No matter where you are, you're always a bit on your own, always an outsider.

My loneliness was an important part of my own little universe, not some pathological disease that needs to be gotten [sic] rid of.

You have the nicest window, you know? None of the others can even compete. It´s not flashy like the others, or bleary – your window gives of this nice, quiet light.

It was only after my head started reeling and my body started weaving and I tumbled into bed that I'd hear that soothing voice singing...The reverbations of that voice wandered sweetly, softly, working like a massage on the area of my heart that was the most tightly clenched, helping those knots to loosen. It was like the rush of waves, and like the laughter of people I'd met in all kinds of places, people I'd become friendly with and then separated from, and like the kind words all those people had said to me, and like the mewing of a cat I had lost, and like the mixture of noises that rang in the background in a place that was dear to me, a place far away, a place that no longer existed, and like the rushing of trees that whisked past my ears as I breathed in a scent of fresh greenery on a trip someplace... the voice was like a combination of all this.