I cried love, is an unconventional journal, that compiles of trivial stages of love, those were lived, felt and stitched into words for the curation of a museum of love letters. For everyone, not impressed by grandeur, but the fingertips of love and finger-gaps of longing, can find a piece to resonate in this. Love can never be a piece, but has to be in fragments. Here’s to all the fragments, once lived, felt, and buried in a journal, next to the coffee mug.