I’m in love with the minutia. The little pieces of you that you don’t think abou

I’m in love with the minutia. The little pieces of you that you don’t think about, that aren’t considered, or filtered, or self censored. The parts that just seep through the cracks, the things that you’ve done a million times, and you’ll do a million more, that same way, that way that’s so quintessentially you.  I’m in love with the way you get dressed. The way you tie your hair back, and the way you eat your morning cereal, and the way you chew your lip before you excuse yourself to go the bathroom.  I’m in love with the way you look at me, as if you’re always about to ask a question, or trying to figure out what that question should be. How you walk. How you talk. The way your mind meanders and you stop yourself, before forcing a smile and starting over again. The way you smell.  I’m in love with these things because they’re just as much you as the grand things, the huge towering monoliths of you that you have chosen to erect, have built and built so that you think they’re going to obscure the other things, the little parts that don’t have quite the same stopping power. And they are impressive, and I love those too. But without those tiny things, the minutia, it would all come tumbling down.  They’re the supports, the struts. The girders that hold everything up.  I love me some girders. -- source link

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