If you listen to the wind very carefully, you'll be able to hear me whisper my love for you.

Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love.

What is it like to wear another person’s skin?”
“I don’t have a good answer for that,” I said. “It hurts.”
“Can you remember their stories? Can you feel the love that they felt?

With every fragment of rock that fall from me, I can hear the voice of Marianne Engle. I love you. Aishiteru. Ego amo te. Ti amo. Eg elska pig. Ich liebe dich. It is moving across time, coming to me in every language of the world, and it sounds like pure love.

I am more than my scars.

The scariest thing about distance is that you don’t know whether they’ll miss you or forget you.