willing suspension of disbelief.

Ancelotti finally cracked a smile

No but - that part in 'To Autumn', where Keats writes - "Where art the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too." - it always ends up making me tear up a bit, I won't lie. It's so simple, yet so beautiful. It's as if he's not just speaking to Autumn - he's actually speaking to me. And to every single person who has ever felt like they're not good enough. It's an assurance, a gentle reminder that even when you feel like someone else has far more to offer than you do, you're needed. And that you're good enough. In your own way.

My first ever Tumblr post lol guess I'm ready to start yapping