People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away.
“If you’ve never been this inexplicably moved by a set of eyes, or the dainty dual points of a woman’s upper lip, then it won’t make any sense. It will seem like hyperbole, or the ramblings of the delusional.But I’m telling you, the only conclusion that makes sense is that my love for her is encoded in both of us at the genetic level: hers the signal, mine the receiver. And you can’t fight that, brother.”
—Ron Currie, Jr., Flimsy Little Plastic Miracles
Plaid Theme by David Kang
