I watched this, last night. It's great.
I made strawberry rhubarb oat bars.
Bloody Tuesday.
There was something else I thought important to tell you...
Love is not a flimsy feeling. Love is not a Harlequin romance.
I think the diminishment of Love and of Love Stories is part of a plan to diminish anything that can save us. Love can do that.
Or ruin us, tragedy. Love can be selfish. Love just is.
Would you rather live and die with the mildest of feelings and only the sense of I-breathe-therefore-I-live?
Sula's been making me think differently about love. And African Love Stories. AND Small Town Gay Bar.
Which bar would you rather be in?
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