I think one of our problems in this world is the loss of romance. The romance of nature, of beauty, of wonder, of poetry, of writing letters infused with the delicate intricacies of the heart.
Reading a book and coming across a character's name that you don't know how to pronounce, so for the rest of the book, every time you see it, your brain just goes ‘skdjfkskakfk.’
“omg you remembered?” did you know that if you cut me up and looked into my heart you would find a small red door that opens into a room plastered with everything you’ve ever said to me and it’s all covered in glitter and fairy lights and paper stars. so yeah, i did remember