Ella no decía nada. Le gustaba que él le dijera cosas, pero ella callaba. Sólo sus ojos y sus manos hablaban…Y eso bastaba.
There are books that one reads over and over again, books that become part of the furniture of one’s mind and alter one’s whole attitude to life, books that one dips into but never reads through, books that one reads at a single sitting and forgets a week later.
When you wake up and get your period and you’re like “oh that’s why I was crying uncontrollably last night over a jelly bean”