People love a love story. I'm deconstructing love as the opening to my future Booker Prize winning novel :)That anything should hurt so much was not provisioned for. A vaguely recalled image or the fleeting meaning of seemingly meaningless moments remembered not chronologically, because the temporal ordering of it mattered little, but by their quality of being somehow permanant, somehow immortal, and shared by only two, a mitosis of time.That the first seed should seem so inconsequential was not provisioned for. If you could live that moment again, you may treat it more tenderly, but then it may have blossomed in some other way, or not at all. To not know you were looking in the eyes of destiny is ironic in the same way all things are - by their ignorance. We think we have our accounts straight at all times. The truth is, we are fallacious in everything we do and think. That love - a word that is so sematically complex because it expresses something no two people feel in the same way, except perhaps when they are conjoined in it and can point to the other person as the personification of their capacity for love - that love comes like the Lord, like a thief in the night, is perhaps its greatest quality; anyone could be the object of that love, as well as the one who finds that pearl within you. That is why one must remain open to other people, regardless of the risks. Love risks everything, and so you must be brave to love, like you must be brave in all things.
>>25239712>That anything should hurt so much was not provisioned for.You ended a sentence with a preposition. I think you mean:->There was no provision for anything that should hurt so much.You're welcome, anon. Don't forget to thank me in your acceptance speech.
>>25239712Also, you're not going to win the Booker unless you're a wog, but I presume you know that. Wear blackface.
