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The fingers on his flesh told him he was loved, that he had always been loved, and that the world was a place where above all else things that were good would find a way to burrow into you.

Steven Galloway (2009). “The Cellist of Sarajevo”, p.12, Atlantic Books Ltd
The fingers on his flesh told him he was loved, that he had always been loved, and that the world was a place where above all else things that were good would find a way to burrow into you.