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When I finished this book, I was sad. This is a feeling I know well enough, when the end of books make me feel like losing a dear friend. But with this book, I felt it more deeply. It was like the end of a soul baring conversation with an old, old friend. The end of this book felt like losing a soulmate. I think the knowledge of his recent death and the fact that I had been listening to his songs obsessively since Bob Dylan won the Nobel for whatever reason made it more so for me. He was an incredible man!

The intimacy, the honesty, the vulnerability feel like getting to know someone’s deepest secrets, the kind I imagine is only, if ever, communicated in silences and hours of quiet shared together; like looking into someone’s eyes  and discovering that they knew you and understood things about you, you couldn’t put it words, that all you needed to put in words was in that gaze. No wonder some of us relate most to the world through books, art, photography, movies, music, dance and communicate best with the world through the creative arts. The authenticity this allows is rare in interpersonal relationships.

The poetry, his words – transform language into a sentiment, a touch, a place where all your insecurities are safe and inadequacies at peace. Book of longing is a book to have and go back to when you miss a friend who really knows you, who will let you lay in her arms, her fingers running through your hair, soothing the creases on your forehead.

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