Reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman and there are some sections that are so beautiful it makes me ache. Just about all of Andre Aciman's Call Me By Your Name has that effect on me, too. Iron and Wine's "Flightless Bird, American Mouth"... Glen Hansard's "When Your Mind's Made Up"... My favorite songs are often the ones that make my chest hurt when I listen.
Can anyone tell me why it is that beauty makes us ache? Give me a poetic answer, a biochemical answer.
This ache has been so much a part of my response to the world that I have never before thought to pose the question.
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