S. Olyschlager

I have so many love stories with people. Some we’ve hardly even spoke. I wonder if they even remember me, oh but I remember them. The connection we create with someone who became more than a stranger for a short amount of time; only to become a stranger again. Like a person you walk by in the middle of the street, you approach and you pass. Your life had led you there, your lines crossed like an “x” and your path will naturally take you drifting away.

This love story comes from your imagination as you envision the lines you could create with each other. Will I be parallel lines with this stranger who now became our friend?

That is a love story that ended too soon.