“I saw a girl in the park yesterday.
She was sitting on the ground with two others, her legs drawn up, her
arms around her knees. Head down, long hair, never saw her face. It
feels dumb and cliched that I felt something, but it also seems
mysterious. Like if there were a thousand girls in the same pose I
still would have noticed her.”
“Savor it. The sharpness, the doubt,
the sadness, the regret. It's the purest of loves. And the memory
will be gone soon enough. It's perfect.”
“But I feel like there's something
I'm not getting. Something about myself, something about the world,
absurdly obvious and I can't see it. It's right there, right in front
of me...”
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