Comparing sincere pure love lost in Murkami's Norwegian wood with fake love created in Flynn's Gone girl, we will discuss how love forces us to transform our personality from childhood to adulthood.
I speak specically of the Amy of today, who was only remotely like thewoman I fell in love with. It had been an awful fairy-tale reverse transformation. Overjust a few years, the old Amy, the girl of the big laugh and the easy ways, literally shedherself, a pile of skin and soul on the ô»oor, and out stepped this new, brittle, bitterAmy. My wife was no longer my wife bu
The question Iâve asked most often
during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I suppose
these questions stormcloud over every marriage: What are you thinking? How are you
feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?
I have a book deal: I am oôœcially in control of our story. It feels wonderfully
symbolic. Isnât that what every marriage is, anyway? Just a lengthy game of he-said,
she-said? Well, she is saying, and the world will listen, and Nick will have to smile and
agree.
A year ago today, I was undoingãmy husband. Now I am almost done reassembling him.Nick has spent all his free time these past months slathering my belly with cocoabutter and running out for pickles and rubbing my feet, and all the things good fathersto-be are supposed to do. Doting on me. He is learning to love me unconditionally,under all my conditions. I think we are ô¹n
å± äžæµŠ, äžæµç€ŸäŒ,"å æ瀟æ°æž"(æ±äº¬: å æ瀟, 2005).
