It's the time of the night I like best, when most people are asleep and it feels like the world belongs completely to my friends and me, as though nothing exists apart from out little circle: everywhere else is darkness and quiet.

My heart is fluid and soaring. There's no longer any space between heartbeats.

We can never understand. We can only try, fumbling our way through the tunneled places, reaching for light.

I think of the quietness of Julian's voice as he said I love you, the steadiness of his rib cage rising and falling against my back, as we sleep.I love you, Julian. But the words don't come.

Mistake, mistake, mistake. A strange word: stinging, somehow.

The reason you can never go home again isn't necessarily that places change, but people do. So nothing ever looks the same.

The first one, we’ll name Blue.