Rekindled Flame
October 27, 2009
“The florist will always plant roses in her garden, though she among all people knows that each of them will one day die. So we love—“without knowing how, or when, or from where,” as Pablo Neruda says; so we love—with full knowledge that our roses may one day die, that our love itself may one day die. So we love. Yet, we love.”
— (via sanmigueldj)
3 notes
September 12, 2009
Love makes things un-boring. :x
4 notes
September 1, 2009
Paris je t’aime
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