once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.
i finally got around to reading a book given to me by someone who promised i would love it. and i did. i loved it.
i pulled it off my bookshelf three weeks ago hoping to finish it within a couple of days. it took me longer than expected because:
1) i am a very slow reader. my mind tends to run wild in fantasy land as my eyes scan the white page of black letters, fabricating stories of my own or simply replaying recent events that, somehow, become sweeter the second time around.
2) i don’t want it to end. when i find something i like, i postpone its completion as long as possible.
the history of love is about a man’s undying loyalty and everlasting love for a woman that he never obtains on a physical level. romantic. real. heartbreaking. lovely.
the moment i finished the book, still wrapped up in the reins of romance, i stepped outside to find the letter K with a heart beside it in the sky. the artist eventually carved out an A, which was not captured by my camera. just another awe-inspiring gesture of someone’s immeasurable admiration for another that left my own heart swollen with delight.
