“Do you love me,” I asked him once.
“Sure I do.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you have a reason?”
“Sure. I got a reason,” he said. “Because you are a rose in a field of dirty old tyres, that’s why.
Miles from Nowhere, Nami Mun
“Do you love me,” I asked him once.
“Sure I do.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you have a reason?”
“Sure. I got a reason,” he said. “Because you are a rose in a field of dirty old tyres, that’s why.
Miles from Nowhere, Nami Mun