Words in Deep Blue

Our ghosts hide in the things we leave behind.

Cal is the ocean and the letters he left.

We are the books we read and the things we love.

Because I love books in a way that’s beyond logic and reason. That’s just how it is.

Memory isn’t straightforward. It surfaces in sounds and images and feelings. He doesn’t realize that in getting another person’s memory, he will lose parts of himself.

“Sometimes science isn’t enough. Sometimes you need the poets,”

I tell her how good it is when someone you like definitely likes you back without any confusion.

In my perfect world I wouldn’t worry about money. In my perfect world books would be with us forever and everyone would love secondhand books

Great Expectations
by Charles Dickens

“I missed you,” he says, and then he kisses me on the mouth and falls asleep.