A passage for your curious pleasure:

"He would have liked to forget about it all, rejoicing that it no longer burns and aches, but at the same time he was also stubbornly sticking to it, sticking to the common memories of them both, to all the miracles – as he called them – which indeed happened on certain days, when the whole world seemed to be shaking and shining only for their sake. Murtra did really believe that with humility and the help of the soul’s nobleness this parting could be set free from pain, but despite this belief he packed his trunk and left for this far-off place, where he knew loneliness and sunshine was awaiting him, and it may create an evil mixture, a dangerous blend for someone who often tended to think in extreme ways and lived his feelings on an exceedingly wide scale. He came to this silent and peaceful land, for he believed that sand, tree, stone and sea are speaking the same language as him, thus they’re all being wisely quiet, and this joint speechlessness might help him to forget the hurts but still retain all the miracles that once happened to them both. The pain Murtra bore was just like the hot, slow glow of skin flushed in the sun, not really unbearable, but steadily aching and sometimes unexpectedly intense. Murtra, when closing his eyes and letting pictures emerge from the past, was shivering from the torture that he intentionally revived. Of course, he was doing this under compulsion, because, lacking any other stimulus, he was able to appreciate the peculiar fragrance, flavour and last but not least the pain of the moments. He thought, by a journey, especially when destined for the distance, he can tilt himself out of this state, stranded in lovelessness. He believed, in a remote place like this it’s enough to stay idle, to wait patiently, and the traces of love bitten into his fate will heal in a little while. So Murtra was waiting and resting. He moved slowly and in silence like exhausted animals searching for a shade."