We are nostalgic for all the lives we did not live, all the loves we did not have, all the beds we did not wake up in, all the secrets we did not share, all the conversations that we missed, all the times we were not there to see it all.
All these lives go on, pass on, and we are unaware of it all, being limited to our own small spheres of existence, all happening under the same sky (which is something of a consolation).
And this is why we read stories. We read stories in order to live infinite lives that could not be possible otherwise.
Dieu Dinh, Tender Cracks; “Why We Read Stories”