The Faults In My Pizza Toppings.

Theres something off putting about tuna on pizza. No h8. But yeah.


Moving on to the critically acclaimed Fault In Our Stars by John Green, romanticized dramatically by the millenials. It was a perfunctory read 2 years back,recalling my sighs of vexation and series of innate frowns upon certain lines. 2 lost souls, one, a cancer survivor heavily bent on the notion of marking his own ephemeral prominence upon the masses pillared by that self manufactured boyish wit, while the other, a cancer patient, is deemed to be laid-back, grounded and unrealistically realistic for a person tip-toeing on the pinnacle of death. Both of them somehow waltzes into each other's seemingly normal and (cancerous) lives and BAM greatest love story ever told. Doesn't work for me. The cinema adaptation on the other hand, did it justice. (Despite the fact my bestfriend cringing at the side in the movie upon sensitive cancer-related scenes) , Ansel Elgort's rendition of Gus was almost ideal. Capturing Augustus's intelligence and quick-witted repartees. Followed by the gradual deterioration of the comical comebacks, and the sprightly simpers,or that scintilatting shine in those cerulean orbs. Cancer sucks.