love-story

He extended a finger to her face, the simple gesture bringing into play the sleek muscles of his shoulders and arms. __ou are so beautiful, so adorable. I know full well you__e my doom, and I don__ care.

His thumb touched her lower lip, his eyes fixed on her. As if he couldn__ be stopped, the words flowed out of his mouth. __ want to take you in my arms, to kiss you long and hard, to touch you like you__e never been touched, to give you the pleasure I feel running in your veins.

Cursed,_ he once cried in a fit of rage. His temper has always been as restless and unpredictable as the sea itself. But his words had power behind them and I felt the effects instantly. Too late to take it back.

I love you, Jocelyn, and nothing, not even death, will ever keep me away from you.

A bedroom is not necessary for me to demonstrate my womanliness!

I realized my sorrow, the regret of a restless, doomed spirit, rang in my voice. For the first time I wondered if my fate was to helplessly watch violence until I became as mad as the men who committed the murders.

It's not the way I wanted to spend eternity with the man I love, but it will have to do. At least we are together.

You're not crazy. In fact, you're perfect. Everything about you couldnt be more so if I made a list of all the qualities I wanted in a partner and special ordered you.

I had the most beautiful dream, and then I fell asleep in your arms and my dream turned lovelier still.

As comestibles nourish our bodies and ideas nourish our minds, so art nourishes our souls.

How could you love us being together?" he asked me "We are nothing alike and we are not meant for each other and we drive each other crazy, you love that? How can you love that?" So I told him "I know that we're not meant for each other, that we drive each other crazy, and that we are so different. But that's us. That's what we have; a wild nonsense. We are not good together, but together we are bad for each other. I love us together this way just like this. Because even if it's no good, it's what we have! It's us.

Every Day is Canada Day for new Canadians

I have this uncanny knack of falling for the most irrelevant men,my love story would be comprising of short stories.

I__ an anchor and he is the sea and I sink into his tenderness as he presses my hand to his heart.

And then there's that person that no matter what, they'll answer your call at 4 am. Your 4am-er. They'll say exactly what you need to hear to bring you back to earth. Your comfort, your voice of reason, your hit upside the head. And he'll always be my 4 am-er.

when they asked me : why you still you use this old photo?my answer : photo? it's not a simple photo, it's a cover of a book that i can remember his story, page by page.

In those sticky summer nights in South London our windows stay open and our tiny apartment becomes our secret garden. The magic of the secret garden is that it exists in our imagination. There are no limits, no borderlines. The secret garden leads to the marigolds of Mogadishu and the magnolias of Kingston and when the heat turns us sticky and sweet and unwilling to be claimed by defeat we own the night. We own our bodies. We own our lives.

Paranoia. The more you think of an imaginary problem, the more you feel as though it__ real _