From Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge:
...You couldn't make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You had to just wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn't go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind...
I imagine little shiny silver pieces of tinsel - or the little lights that fall in every direction after fireworks blow up high in the sky - hanging somewhere in a place where we keep feelings locked away, feelings we no longer want to or are allowed to feel... waiting for a breeze to come along and move them just enough that this place within our minds might awake.
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