London calls me a stranger


miĆ©rcoles, 8 de junio de 2011 13:48 | permalink | comment
Allie: Why didn't you write me? Why?
It wasn't over for me.
I waited for you for seven years.
But now it's too late.
Noah: I wrote you 365 letters.
I wrote you everyday for a year.
Allie: You wrote me?
Noah: Yes... it wasn't over,
it still isn't over.

 

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Bianca, 17.
My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.


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