“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds — but I think of you always in those intervals.”

“Every creature is a glittering, glistening mirror of divinity.”

“while night clatters and mirrors open and everything tears inside because of your absence.”

“Last night was hell; I feel completely paralysed, away from you; I’m not hungry; I can’t sleep; can’t read; can’t think. I’ll be all right, but not by recovering from missing you; only by learning, and it must take a good deal of learning, how to live with this huge whistling hole in my guts and heart.”

"Romantic obsession is my first language. I live in a world of fantasies, infatuation and love poems. Sometimes I wonder if the yearning I've felt for others was more of a yearning for yearning itself. I've pined insatiably and repeatedly: for strangers, new lovers, unrequited flames. While the subjects changed, that feeling always remained. Perhaps, then, I have not been so infatuated with the people themselves, but with the act of longing."

One day, you realise that there are some people you’ll never see again. At least, not in the same way.