At least I’m not the only one who finds change difficult.
Los ojos marrones son alucinantes en algunas personas y, en otras, terriblemente vulgares.
It’s the beginning of everything.
Someday, their story would be a chapter in one of those sleazy, mass-market, true-crime paperbacks that were shelved in the cobwebbed corners of used bookstores – the types of paperbacks that boasted about the number of crime-scene photographs inside.
There’s no reason to suffer this flight alone when we can suffer it together.
I scan the dark room, through the thrashing bodies of disillusioned Parisian youth, getting their anger out with a healthy dose of French punk rock.
Ti amo come si amano certe cose oscure, segretamente, tra l’ombra e l’anima.
Thanks. I forgot how to flip off the English. I’ll use the correct hand gesture next time.
Here books totter in wobbly stacks, fall from the seats of chairs, and spill from sagging shelves. There are cardboard boxes overflowing with books, and a black cat naps beside a pile on the stairs.
They had me next to some horrible couple in matching Hawaiian shirts. There’s no reason to suffer this flight alone when we can suffer it together.
And then the darkness gives way to white neon. An Art Deco font, burning into the night, announces our arrival at the CINEMA LE CHAMPO. The letters dwarf me. Cinema. Has there ever been a more beautiful word? My heart soars as we pass the colorful film posters and walk through the gleaming glass doors. The lobby is smaller than what I’m used to, and though it’s missing the tang of artificially buttered popcorn, there’s something in the air I recognize, something both musty and comforting.
Everybody has at least one moment they deeply regret, but that one moment... it doesn’t define all of you.
We just keep each other company. My breath. His breath. My breath. His breath. I could never tell him, but it’s true. This is home. The two of us.
Only Darby, who also innately understood the concept of otherness had successfully avoided this pitfall. just as it was rude and invasive to ask him about his genitalia or sexual preference, it was equally rude and invasive to ask her about her ethnicity. It was the sort of information that should be volunteered. Never asked for.
If I die out there? I’d be honored if you ate my body.” “I would never let a bear get to your body first.
It was ridiculous how much gear was required for roughing it.
I was more comfortable just watching antics like these, turning them into a myth in my mind, a legend. I watched life so that I could find the story inside it – it helped me make sense of things. But sometimes I got tired of my own brain, perpetually unsettled as it was.
Music is so powerful and mysterious because it can bring up emotions you’ve buried inside of you. Dancing is a way to experience these emotions and release them so they don’t get stuck in your throat or stomach or chest.
It is so nice to be worried about. It is maybe the best thing about being in a relationship: that you can share the heavy load of being alive.
I passed worried families, their hands clutched in front of them, sweaters balled up over their fists to cover themselves. We became protective at the fist sign of grief, hunching in, shielding our most vulnerable parts.