Karma wangchuk

@Karma Wangchuk

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I still remember the way she looked at me the first time we met—like I was someone she’d already known in another life. We were in a tiny bookstore tucked away between a café and a florist on a rainy Thursday. I was there for a poetry collection. She was trying to find a book that didn’t exist anymore. We ended up sitting on the floor between the shelves, talking about everything from Neruda to David Bowie.