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Assalamulaikum, I am so into The Time Traveler's Wife; even blogging about the reading progress brings so much passion. This is an extension of previous blog post. Here are the excerpts towards the end of the book that I felt responsible to share. The first one is a part of Henry's letter to Clare and the second one is Clare's final words. As emotional as I am, these phrases made me cry. Read with heart and enjoy your journey... Wassalam. A Letter to be Opened in the Event of My Death pg 574 - 577 (...) Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. I hate to think of you waiting. I know that you have been waiting for me all your life, always uncertain of ...

Assalamualaikum, [Background song: Broken by Lifehouse] It's been a while since I finished reading the Time Traveler's Wife and I am still not quite sure on how to write the finality of the book. "Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. (...) I love you, always. Time is nothing." ~ Henry's letter to Clare; after his death~ This book has a special personification that detained time in its own hourglass. You are personally here and there, where Henry and Clare were - witnessing their twisted fate. It was a sensation of moving through ticking seconds from inside a transparent capsule. The book's main theme were " waiting " and ...

Assalamualaikum, " CLARE : Henry is sleeping on the sofa with a book spread open on his chest. Borges's Ficciones. He is shaved and I lean over him and breathe; he smells fresh, his damp gray hair sticking up as always. Alba is chattering with Teddy in her room. For a moment I feel as though I've time traveled, as though this is some stray moment from before, but then I let my eyes travel down Henry's body to the flatness at the end of the blanket, and I know that I am only here and now ." pg. 533 Henry lost his feet. Henry is depressed. Clare is depressed. I feel depressed, too. I understand clearly when Clare said: "For a moment I feel as though I've time traveled, as though this is some stray moment from before, but then I let my eyes travel down Henry's body to the flatness at the end of the blanket, and I know that I am only here and now". She needs an escape door with a big-glowing EXIT sign - unlock. When the one we love suffer, we suff...

Assalamualaikum, *Background music: Broken by Lifehouse* ~ The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight, Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time~ " CLARE : I was completely drunk with the notion of a baby: a baby that looked sort of Henry, black hair and those intense eyes and maybe very pale like me and smelled like milk and talcum powder and skin, a sort of dumpling baby, gurgling and laughing at everyday stuff, a monkey baby, a small cooing sort of baby. I would dream about babies. In my dreams I would climb a tree and find a very small shoes in a nest; I would suddenly discover that the cat/book/sandwich I thought I was holding was really a baby; I would be swimming in the lake and find a colony of babies growing at the bottom. (...) I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always. And I wanted Henry to be in this child, so that when he was gone he wouldn't be entirely gone, there would be a bit of him with me... insurance, in ca...

Assalamualaikum, " CLARE : It’s hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s okay. It’s hard to be the one who stays . I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way. I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I’m tired. I watch the wind play with the trash that’s been under the snow all winter. Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absence? Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity . Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow? " " HENRY : ...I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going, and she cannot follow."...