Ex Animo

Classics Major.  Amateur Ceramist.

"Isn't it a sort of passing strangeness," one said to another, "a sort of understood oddness, that when we love someone so much, we tear a bit of ourselves.  And it's never hemmed or fixed.  Like that mood ring I left swimming in the drain of the shower for weeks, now stained a permanent and beautiful ocean blue feeling."

"What?" said the another to the one.

"But that's not quite right, there's no sorrow in the breaking.  It's just a passing strangeness, that's all."

I’ve waited all winter for this.

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