all that glitters is not gold.

the path to our destination is not always a straight one. we go down the wrong road, we get lost, we turn back. maybe it doesn't matter which road we embark on. maybe what matters is that we embark.

Not television love, with its glare and hollow sequined glint, not sex and allure, all high shoes and high drama; everything both too small and in too much excess.
But just love; love like rain, like the smell of a tangerine. Like a surprise found in your pocket; we were all apart of that.