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I need to tell you: I’ve seen you everyday riding on the bus, and I truly think you’re the most beautiful thing that has ever set foot on this planet. You bring the world color and grace, you christen everything that you touch with light and life; the delicate balance of your body, the symphony of your breath rising and falling, the poise of your hands the sculpture of your neck; you’re so beautiful sometimes it hurts to look at you. You fill me with so much joy just by being here, just by sitting and reading and smiling to yourself and being alive and happy that sometimes I think my heart might burst. There were temples in Roman times devoted to lesser beauties than you. I want to be the high priest at your alter. If you would let me, I would follow you to the ends of the earth, and lay carpets of heather beneath your feet so that they would never grow tired or sore, and learn instruments to play for you so you would only ever hear sweet sounds, and protect you from anything that would harm you. I don’t know. I don’t even know your name. But somehow I know if I let this, if I let you pass me by, I’ll never get this chance again. I’ll never meet anyone who lights this world up in quite the same unbelievable way you do. And I think what I’m trying to say is, in a few years, would you marry me and start a family with me? In a few weeks could we start dating? And sometime in the next few days, Could we meet up for coffee and get to know each other?

Amy Sutton, A Human Write.