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On young love, and loss.

January 2019

the heart is a muscle

The weirdest thing about it all was perhaps the many possible ways- or more accurately, moments in our life on this tiny island when we could have physically met. Bumped heads, made conversation, flirted even - but we just never did. And then on a very ordinary day, me- sort of recovering from a long-drawn heart break over an impossible love, and him, mindlessly swiping on a virtual minefield after yet another failed relationship/date/insert blank, connected on Tinder.

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