Our tongues have fallen madly in love and gotten married and moved to Paris.

It's such a colossal effort not to be haunted by what's lost, but to be enchanted by what was.

And why do English people sound smarter than the rest of us? Like they should be awarded the Nobel Prize for a simple greeting?

Music: what life, what living itself sounds like.

In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.

This is our story to tell. You’d think for all the reading I do, I would have thought about this before, but I haven’t. I’ve never once thought about the interpretative, the story telling aspect of life, of my life. I always felt like I was in a story, yes, but not like I was the author of it, or like I had any say in its telling whatsoever.

This is the secret I kept from you, Bails, from myself too: I think I liked that Mom was gone, that she could be anybody, anywhere, doing anything. I liked that she was our invention, a woman living on the last page of the story with only what we imagined spread out before her. I liked that she was ours, alone.