Incandescence, desire, dreaminess, expectation, the madness of the senses. That’s what French books of days gone by refer to as le tourment, “the pangs.” I can’t describe the forces that take hold of your body when you fall in love, which in my vocabulary is a hazy and imprecise word, a myopic millipede crawling up the back of something huge.
-Kamel Daoud
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