“I remember another aphorism of my father's, one that he used to say whenever we passed someone pissing openly in the street: add color to life when you can.”

“My father always said that government is like watching another man piss in your boot. Someone feels better but it certainly isn't you.”

“As far back as I can remember, whenever you used to look at me, your face would light up as if someone had lit a candle inside you.”

“How can I compete,when I know our lips will never meet?I can't show you that we might just make fireworks in the middle of december....Three years from now someone will say my name and I hope we'll have a love story you can remember...Hang up your shoes and settle down before time passes you. Let me show you honey, that life is beautiful not with one, but two <3”

“I’ve never been the one. Not for anybody.”He closed the distance between them. “You’ll get used to it.” He tipped her face up to his, kissed her.“Why? Why am I the one?”“Because my life opened up, and it flooded with color when you walked back into it.”

“And as we walk back down the street, me gingerly clutching what at this point constitutes my entire collection, my father says, ‘One day, when you’re all grown up and I’m not here any more, you’ll remember the sunny day we went to the market together and bought a boat.’ My throat feels tight because, as soon as he says it, I am already there. Standing on another street, without my father, trying to get back. And yet I’m here, with him. So I try to soak up every aspect of the moment, to help me get back when I need to. I feel the weight of the chunky parcel under my arm, and the warmth of the sun, and my father’s hand in mine. I smell the flowers with their sharp undertang of cheap hot dog, and taste the slick of toffee on my teeth, and hear the chattering hagglers. I feel the joy of an adventurous Saturday with my father and no school, and I feel the sadness of looking back when it is all gone. When he is gone.”