#makesmecryeverytime

Call Me By Your Name by @acimanandre is absolutely one of the most beautiful books I have ever read ❤️😭💔 the way Andre Aciman writes is exquisite. I want to reread this book over + highlight all of my favorite passages. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with a piece of literature more than this. I laughed. I cried. I watched the movie @cmbynfilm various times and even listened to the audiobook, which is wonderfully read by @armiehammer . What a truly lovely + simultaneously heartwarming + heartbreaking novel💓 #callmebyyourname #cmbyn #makesmecryeverytime #ilovethis #beautiful #wonderfullywritten #novels #books #reading #movieadaptation #audiobook #timotheechalamet #armiehammer #andreaciman #lucaguadagnino #michaelstuhlbarg https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp0SnSAHAKw/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=13lybhazz3j6k

We spend so much time growing up that we forget they are getting old. 😢☔ #makesmecryeverytime #nanay #tatay

“Over here,” she said softly, and led him to a small square stone set in the earth. He thought it was Caitlin’s grave—the child who’d come before Young Jenny, the sister who’d lived but one day—but then saw that Caitlin’s stone lay a few feet away. This one was the same size and shape, but—he squatted by it, and running his fingers over the shadows of its carving, made out the name. Yeksa’a. “Mam,” he said, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears. “Is that right, Ian?” she said, a little anxious. “Your da said he wasna quite certain of the spelling of the Indian name. I had the stone carver put both, though. I thought that was right.” “Both?” But his hand had already moved down and found the other name. Iseabaíl. He swallowed hard. “That was right,” he said very softly. His hand rested flat on the stone, cool under his palm. She squatted down beside him, and reaching, put her own pebble on the stone. It was what you did, he thought, stunned, when you came to visit the dead. You left a pebble to say you’d been there; that you hadn’t forgotten. His own pebble was still in his other hand; he couldn’t quite bring himself to lay it down. Tears were running down his face, and his mother’s hand was on his arm. “It’s all right, a duine,” she said softly. “Go to your young woman. Ye’ll always be here wi’ us.” The steam of his tears rose like the smoke of incense from his heart, and he laid the pebble gently on his daughter’s grave. Safe among his family. It wasn’t until many days later, in the middle of the ocean, that he realized his mother had called him a man.

"I don't like bees because bees killed Thomas J AND WHERE ARE HIS GLASSES HE CAN'T SEE WITHOUT HIS GLASSES"