#278. Infinities.

“There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.”
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

How some infinities are bigger than other infinities, and how incredibly lucky we are to have found someone to love in it.

#272. Wild.

“Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.”

― Caitlyn Siehl, Literary Sexts: A Collection of Short & Sexy Love Poems

Young, wild, angry love.

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#270. Arms.

When someone carries you in their arms, even though you’ve put on a few kilos over the summer.

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#263. Fashion police.

When someone notices your new sweater and compliments it.
Friends who double up as fashion police.
Happy birthday, Munir! You’re burgeoning into a very fine man! ❤

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#259. Cooking.

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When someone takes the heat of a stove for you.

P.S. The picture is of the pizza that my best friend recently baked for me, and we ate it in the rain on my balcony.

#257. Cliches.

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“It’s hot today.”
“That’s cuz I’m here. (Say nigga WHAT?!)”

When someone overuses a cliche, but it’s still cute.

P.S. This is a special dedication birthday run-up post for Munir. ❤

#249. Erotica.

“My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
Until I even believe that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.” -Pablo Neruda

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Erotica that isn’t vulgar.