" You'll know it's love when the wrinkles resting at the ends of his eyes become your favorite feature. When “good morning” is shared with the rats of the street and people become flowers and the earth is gold. And you create your own clouds to walk upon and everywhere you look is painted with possibility. You'll know it's love when you see nothing and everything and it all looks the same; And it all looks like him. "

― , Imprinted