"She doesnt know i cry for the changing times,
That just as i reread my favourite books, some small part of me hoping for a different ending, I find myself hoping against hope that the war will never come. That this time, somehow, it will leave us be."
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
So
It wasn't so much how he smelt, or the heat of the room. It was the way the light was sitting, a silvery blue. It was perfect and I'll never forget.
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