Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Maybe she and Tate would give up those things to pursue new quests together and reunite with old friends. But they would always remember what they’d endured and how they fell in love. They would always find solace in the dark and the pain, in a hand around the throat, or a last request in a shack, or a seedy sex club, or a ransom payment, as well as antivenom injections, scarification, Venezuelan prisons, monastery ruins, and tragic love stories.
Without the bad stuff—the trauma, the fall, and the crash—joy wouldn’t exist. Maybe something like it would be in the background, like an echo of the real thing. But it wouldn’t have strength and impact. It wouldn’t be felt in every bone, tissue, and organ.
It was the bad stuff that breathed vivid life into the good.
Sorrow existed to breed happiness.
Pain gave rise to pleasure.
Loss brought about exploration.
Through a story of suicidal lovers and a gate carved into skin, it was grief that had led her to Tate.
They found each other in tragedy.
A silent, unified heartbeat in the midst of devastation.