life imitates art

there's a passage in michael cunningham's the hours where he writes about the main character, clarissa, remembering a specific moment that happened when she was 18. it's a moment that she thinks about a lot. she says something like, "i stood there on that porch, thinking this is the beginning of happiness. what i didn't understand was that it was happiness." she sees that moment as the pinnacle of her young life, and everything after it as a downward slope.

me: only accurate if we're in london.
him: i loved the day you returned from london. in my apartment with long hair. wavy. made my mouth water.

it's statements like these that keep me coming back for more, even after six years of being unrequited. sometimes it's reassuring to know that people live in their heads as much as you do. that certain things are never forgotten.