@gracecansee: [...] p.22 I look back to that summer and can't believe that despite every one of my efforts to live with the "fire" and the "swoon", life still granted wonderful moments. Italy. summer. my room. his room. our balcony that shut the whole world out. the soft wind trailing exhalations from our garden up the stairs to my bedroom. the summer I learned to love fishing, because he did. to love jogging, because he did. to love octopus, Heraclitus, Tristan. the summer I'd hear a bird sing, smell a plant, or feel the mist rise from under my feet in warm sunny days and because my senses were always on alert, would automatically find them rushing to him. hè năm 26, những tấm hình bí mật của tình yêu

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