How could a night so frozen be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild be so raw? Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor of memory, when single frames from one magic night forever flicker in close up on the 3D Imax of my mind…
that’s.. poetic? that’s pathetic.
“
After hearing someone say, WHO DIED? My immediate response is ‘Our Akita… Evita.’
(via rentlyrics)
ahahaha… same. it’s actually ridiculous how many times I quote Rent throughout the day.
