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Sep 14, 2014 / 85 notes
You will fall in love with sweat, certain perfumes, the smell of the season in which you fell in love. This particular love smells like fall. It smells like Halloween and a roaring fire and leaves and fog and mist and candy and food and family and whiskey and sex and the lint that collects on sweaters. When it ends, if it ends, you will never experience another fall without thinking of him, her, it. The memories will stick to the ground like a mound of leaves.
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"There is an old poem by Neruda that I’ve always been captivated by, and one of the first lines in it has stuck with me ever since the first time i read it. It says "love is so short, forgetting is so long". It’s a line I’ve related to in my saddest moments, when i needed to know someone else had felt the exact same way.” (RED prologue)

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