There’s something beautiful about keeping certain aspects of your life hidden. Maybe people and clouds are beautiful because you can’t see everything.
The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs.
Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
They lived and laughed and loved and left.
Have you ever analyzed things to the degree where you can’t really remember the difference between what’s real and what you’ve created in your head?