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Each person’s heart is its own archive layered with the sediments of romance, friendship, family, grief—but not everyone has quite the right words for it.

A response to Malavika Kannan's article: "Lowkey, I Chose To Be a Lesbian."

We're having sex, we're just not having good sex!

Image courtesy of David Underland via Unsplash The concept of love is regularly up for debate, with everyone having something to contribute to its discourse. Everyone seems to have their own perception of this phenomenon, having witnessed it from their youth. It seems fair then, that my assessment of love is that it is brave, vulnerable and a submission of the ego. To others, perhaps to you, love isn’t any of those things. Maybe it is imprudent, delicate and frightening. Wha

Perhaps this is the film's quiet message. Love leaves traces, and these traces are what make us human.

Somewhere along the way, self-awareness became a form of critical self-surveillance.

I moved to London almost two months ago, and like any anxiety-riddled extrovert in her twenties, I had that crippling fear that I would make no friends.

Are we in love, or are we in love with the idea of being in love?

Will romance survive the age of instant gratification?

"London feels like fresh air in our relationship..."