...if we could write our own lines...

Dedicated to a funny tripping laughing girl in the UK, spinning circles today

I found it on the toilet paper holder, off to the side. Not on the wall or on the back of the door, where you usually find stall philosophy.

I found it beautiful and true, mostly. Except that sometimes everything IS always love. Not in the sense of that emotion shared but rather a hazy, wind-whipped weather pattern that drops onto you one day. When that happens, it doesn't matter how it happens or for how brief a time you stay in it; when it happens it is the only thing, until it leaves again. And if you're sad, that's why. And if you're bright, that's why. And if you laugh to yourself in the crowd, or run circles around your niece and throw her in the air, or marvel at the reflected rainbow on a gray fabric bulletin board, that's why. And absolutely when you dance close in too-high shoes, belly thrilling, only slightly faking... in that second, everything really is always love.