He laughs. And in his laugh I hear bliss. I hear feet dancing, the rush of skirts twirling. The sound of children.Is that the first sign of love?You hear in the person you're destined to love the sound of those yet to be born.

If those we love visit us when we dream, those who torment us almost always visit us when we're still awake.

There was also something about the smell of bookshops that was strangely comforting to her. She wondered if it was the scent of ink and paper, or the perfume of binding, string, and glue. Maybe it was the scent of knowledge. Information. Thoughts and ideas. Poetry and love. All of it bound into one perfect, calm place.