I don’t know if it is possible at all to capture the moment in which love begins. Not some crush, but love. Falling in love is after all only an aggravation of ourselves, difficult to master, persistently haunting obsession dealing with all the time and all space. Although implants in the brain, but it really fills mainly the body. Love, if ever, occurs later. Absorbs differently. It is not only passionate about the present moment. Looks into the future.
Love is a passion. Precipitates of equilibrium. Loses rhythm. Perturbs tranquility. Changes all. Flips world upside down. Turns everything inside out, West changes to South, and North into East, the bad into good, makes you open your heart unconditionally. In this insanity pain and fear are invisible. Paradoxically, without them love has no meaning.
Closeness is so rare today, almost magical.
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