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the winter is love because: you remember benjamin, forever (or this winter) ago
stolen from somewhere. too beautiful not to be shared with the world
the winter is love because: the windows in the bus steam up and you can draw hearts and write names
the winter is love because: it's winter by the time you pass that place where you kissed him for the first time and it doesn't feel sad anymore
"alice, i am sad and grumpy. lets go and get drunk and shout at people and kidnap a tourist. or go and chill somewhere and have a cuddle"
i guess, i should really learn where to put my love. or whom to give it to
some boys were born to make you cry
how many people would never fall in love, if they hadn’t heard the word
500 days of augusto are finally over. i can breathe!
our files are confidential mr. barish so we can't show you any evidence. suffice it to say, miss kruczynski was not happy and she wanted to move on. we provide that possibility
coleridgewhat if you slept? and what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? and what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? and what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand? ah, what then?
