The God of Small Things

I was reading The God of Small Things on the train when I came to this passage:

It had been quiet in Estha's head until Rahel came. But with her she brought the sound of passing trains, and the light and shade and light and shade that falls on you if you have a window seat. The world, locked out for years, suddenly flooded in, and now Estha couldn't hear himself for the noise. Trains. Traffic. Music. The Stock Market. A dam had burst and savage waters swept everything up in swirling. Comets, violins, parades, loneliness, clouds, beards, bigots, lists, flags, earthquakes, despair were all swept up in a scrambled swirling.

I was fortunate enough to actually experience the light and shade of the window seat while reading this.

Sometimes life can be little moments too unbearable to not believe in omniscient engineering.