“But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.”
Love is all chemical. I want it to be over, this long abrasive competition for the role of the victim; it used to matter that it should finish right, with grace, but not now.
Margaret Atwood
Todos Santos: Fresh Fish Tacos, Stiff Margaritas, and Baja’s Best Waves | Rancho Pescadero Hotel
