...and time becomes a forgotten detail.

Do certain events in our lives leave a permanent mark, freezing a piece of us in time, and that becomes a touchstone that we measure the rest of our lives against?

Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

Maybe the impossible is possible when you take everything else away.

Words have longer lives than people.

Which weakness shall I tell her? “I walk funny,” I say, and she’s satisfied with that. (inside joke)

Escape is not about moving from one place to another. It's about becoming more.