You can’t hear the blaring train horn during the day but at night it pierces through the quiet air.
When I was younger, I thought love made me brave. That I would be ready for it when it arrives. But on an ordinary day like today, I don’t see myself taking on such a behemoth.
Do your (country’s) TV shows reflect the way you speak in real life?
For every stage of my life, the kind of love I give (bestow? heap upon?) evolves.
Warm October nights: summer has overstayed her welcome. The discomfort sticks to you like sweat on your skin as you toss and turn in bed. It clings like a stubborn lover who refuses to admit the end. Or it’s climate change.
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