Love: we are human, after all.

     In the time of territorial chaos somewhere far out in the disputed seas, I would often ponder on how easily it is for us to entertain a fleeting feeling such as the presence of a potential partner for life. Such as love, like the trespassing ships on the horizon, it fills you with dread and uncertainties. 

   Or Love, as they call it. An unselfish  act partnered with bursts of innocent libido and heavy doses of excited sleepless nights.

   Up until now I doubt if these criteria really depict love. A word as vague as windshields with a collection of water spots and dried soap suds from a carwash session last year. Some do get you through the rough road, some just confuse the screws out of you. Like forks on the road, you just sometimes wish there was none. 

  But it seems that in children, love is as easy as an attachment to "Bobo," an elephant stuffed toy that joins a child to sleep. Love, in tenderly calling your mother's name. An attachment to a person, no matter how far, how unrequited, how impossible and even one that exists beyond death, can also be love. 

  It seems evident to older people the concept of love, of staying through the long haul, a history, or a journey of pushing through a mythical end (of there's end in love.) You see old couples holding hands, making breakfasts for each other like topnotch carpe diem, it's a lovely view, a visual inspiration. They see each other everyday like it's their first time to meet 40 years ago. Both lovely and young, full of vigor with an understandable stubbornness and excitement with every breath. 

  Love is recklessly inhaled and exhaled, and is consumed in critical amounts. And we fall, fall, fall. 

  Personal experiences have painfully taught us a few things. We fall in love with people who care/cared so much about us til they burst like supernovas into the galaxy of love, and we fall inlove with people that ignore, disrespect and leave us in the crevices of the world we built together.

  And they're gone. Like the scent of cheap cologne. They linger and persist into your consciousness. Slips and slowly dies in the hands of your resiliency. Love springs anytime, sometimes with no permission. As long as there are people willing to fight for it. Love survives war and famine, so it must definitely survive a lesser chaotic setting. Dozens of images appear in my mind as I think about this phenomenal transcendence that is love. Inherited, discovered, fulfilled and universal. Fragments of movies and the hugs and the kisses we share and witness in our environment, in our imaginations, love thrives and survives. 

  In children, it's easy to interpret love. It is as easy for them as a smile. It is as if without doing anything, children can make adults feel that all things and all selves are capable of love.  

  When you see children, you ultimately see an innocence and lightness so rare in adults. For they bring nothing else. And I wonder how it is to be a mother, rumour has it that it pulls you to a nirvana like nothing else does. It must be love. 

- end

(the title for this article is inspired by the french electronic duo album: Daft Punk's Human After All.