
“Tears are the silent passion for suffering”
―
―
“She stared at the stars like they were pillow for her mind and in their light she could rest her heavy head.”
―
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“I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons”
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―

“What are you thinking?” he asked in a disarmingly gentle tone.
“That the city looks different depending on whom I’m seeing it with.”
He nodded easily, as if this same thought had occurred to him.
“I notice different things,” I continued. “Like with you, I pay more attention to the details of the buildings – the textures, the colors, the people standing in front of them. The reflections are different.”
“Reflections?” he asked quietly.
“They are.” I watched our bodies morph and distort in the window of an empty bank. “You’re there,” I said. “That’s how they’re different.”
― Come Alive
“That the city looks different depending on whom I’m seeing it with.”
He nodded easily, as if this same thought had occurred to him.
“I notice different things,” I continued. “Like with you, I pay more attention to the details of the buildings – the textures, the colors, the people standing in front of them. The reflections are different.”
“Reflections?” he asked quietly.
“They are.” I watched our bodies morph and distort in the window of an empty bank. “You’re there,” I said. “That’s how they’re different.”
― Come Alive
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