books
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She wasn’t perfect. She knew that in the first place— Especially attractive, or the most intelligent person in the room. She wasn’t the type—the kind of woman who effortlessly warms the room, who always has the right words at the right moment, and who walks in and brightens everything. Those who make love seem effortless.
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On the corner of a peaceful street sits a little cafe, the kind of place where time stands still and the aroma of roasted coffee and unsaid words fills the air. People go there to reflect, to wait, to remember. She sit down by the window and trace absent patterns on the wooden table with
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I saw Fleabag over the weekend at last. After what seemed like endless search, I discovered it on Prime Video and watched the full series straight through. Although it came out years ago, it couldn’t have arrived at a better moment in my life. Although it’s a dark comedy, its honest raw emotional quality stays
life as poems 'n letters 