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There are two kinds of people in the world: people who put things away as they should, and arseholes who shelve books with no respect for the alphabet.
I’d much rather stay in and enjoy some of the classic introverted activities. Like hiding. And reading.
Classical literature? Art books? Tawdry smut? I’m game for anything to stop my relentless brain doing time trial relays inside my skull.
“We need more readers and artists and creatives. They’re the real visionaries. The rest is just capitalism.
“You’re important to me, Aubrey. Even in this short time. Sometimes, I think, life brings us people we’re supposed to meet. Like there’s something we’re supposed to learn. And I guess, having been through what I’ve been through, the only thing I’ve learned is that it’s better to take a chance than not. Even if it hurts after. Because not knowing would hurt worst of all, I think. At least this way we might have something to remember.”
There’s nothing but us, here and now. No last week. Or next week. Or future or past. We’re just two people, caught in something raw. Something real.
And history sometimes makes people foolishly nostalgic, remembering only the good bits and glossing over the bad.”

