'Your very flesh shall be a great poem,

and have the richest fluency not only in it's words,

but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.'

WW

People can fall in love on escalators. In bus terminals, amongst the grimy-booted downtrodden passengers, your heart can be reaching out. Falling in love, in certain instances, has nothing to do with the person. Only the time. I leave love letters here, strategically hidden half-heartedly in fake, fading plants and cracks of crumbling stairwells. Sometimes people just need the hope of love, even a hint of romance can get their minds (and hearts) running-crash-into the next person they meet. This may seem almost cruel, a haphazard way of trying to play cupid. But who's to say it's not just giving fate a hand? Some people need that push, they're just far too dense to see love when he (or she) is staring them in the face.