It's something you don't see until it's gone-the shapes and things have and the ways in which the people around you mould the shapes.

What did it mean, the first time, a thinking creature looked deeply into another's eyes? Did it take a hundred thousand years before this happened or it was the first thing they did, transcendingly, the thing that made them higher, made them modern, the gaze that demonstrates we are lonely in our souls?

The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither was capable now of betraying the other.

Written By Paulo Coelho

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