I want to tell you about a magical and deeply meaningful place—or rather, about a person who is very dear to me and the simplest city bus stop.

Once, we ran to that stop through pouring rain, arguing or debating about something. From that same stop, I left countless times late at night. This story is probably like many others, filled with both joyful and bittersweet moments—beer on a bench, silly arguments, and dreams about the future.

The most important thing is to remember that summer is in our hands, love has a long life, and magic is preserved in the kisses of words. Unfortunately, I haven’t been there in a very long time, as this wonderful guy and I haven’t spoken in years. But whenever I think of a place that truly matters to me, I immediately remember the bus stop, the storm, and you.