It’s around 1 in the morning, I’ve just quickly downed a glass of crisp white wine in your name and I’ve half the mind to delete everything that ever was of us on my phone. When you think about it — and I mean really think, carefully and objectively about it, Pablo Neruda made absolute, perfect sense.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Pablo, you sly old dog. Who’d have thought I’d be living out — quite literally, famous words written by one of my favourite poets. We loved for so short, he and I. It was a whirlwind; first came the curiosity about Spanish food — the discussion of paella, churros and the like, then came spending quite a lot of time with you because you had been group mates with one of my closest friends for class.