But I mean, you know, I Luff you, that is to say I Lerv you.

On the radio this morning, a woman was reading love poems about her husband. She said she was practicing the art of "wabi sabi," which is the desire to see beauty in flaws. At first I thought this was vaguely insulting. Kind of that New York-y intellectualizing of emotions. Things are bad, but that's sexy or vaguely spiritually eastern in some way. But then she breaks between poems about greying chest hairs and socks left out in the bathroom, and answers this question the interviewer asks her. It's a dull question- why do you think when people write about love, they write about it in poetry? Yawn. But then the woman states that this has to do with concentration. And that's what love is, she says. Love is not rules, or promises made for things you will or won't do in the future. It is one person asking for, wanting, and getting just a little bit of concentration from someone else. She goes on to say that this is especially true for women, and throws in many more gender stereotypes masquerading as thoughtful opinion. But by then I've thankfully tuned her out. I just like that idea. And I like the idea that is borne out of this one.
That in all the loud roaring of life, the stress, the turning and turning of meaningless maps, the fog- That there is someone that makes me go quiet, and makes me look right ahead and see clearly if only for a few feet. In those moments of seeing, things become more familiar. Perhaps this is part of that feeling of un-aloneness that love promises to afford us.