talking and singing to herself with no one there to hear but the trees and the birds and the time-worn stones.
There are many kinds of solitude, but Momo's was a solitude few people ever know and even fewer experience with such intensity.
She felt as if she were imprisoned in a vault heaped with priceless treasures - an ever-growing hoard that threatened to crush the life out of her.
There was no way out, either. The vault was impenetrable,
and she was far too deeply buried beneath a mountain of time to attract anyone's attention.
There were even moments when she wished she had never heard the music or seen the flowers.
And yet, had she been offered a choice, nothing in the world would have induced her to part with her memories of them, not even the prospect of death.
Yes, death, for she now discovered that there are treasures capable of destroying those who have no one to share them with.
Every few days, Momo made the long walk to Guido's house and waited outside the gate for hours in the hope of seeing him again.
By now she was ready to agree to anything - ready to stay with him and listen to him,
whether or not things became as they once were - but the gate remained firmly shut.
Only a few months passed in this way, yet Momo had never lived through such an eternity.
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