it can disappear

Maybe, in some distant place, everything is already, quietly, lost. Or at least there exists a silent place where everything can disappear, melting together in a single, overlapping figure. And as we live our lives we discover–drawing toward us the thin threads attached to each–what has been lost. I closed my eyes and tried to bring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. Drawing them closer, holding on to them. Knowing all the while that their lives are fleeting.

Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart, p 207

Abandonment is an invisible wound that does not heal easily. As a storyteller, I am attracted by it because it synthesizes the general precariousness of all we consider constant, the deconstruction of everything that seemed “normal.” Abandonment corrodes those certainties within which we believed we lived safely. Not only have we been abandoned, but we may not hold up when faced with the loss; we abandon ourselves, we lose the consistency that we have gained via the sweet habit of entrusting ourselves to others. So, to get through it, you must find a new equilibrium while at the same time acknowledging a new fact-namely, that everything you have can be taken from you, and with it your will to live.

Elena Ferrante, Vanity Fair interview, August 27, 2015