Six: Ode To Lowe.

"Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V" 

- Virginia Woolf.

I have always understood love as a very random emotion. Yes, there is strength in love, and there is resilience. But the fact that the L word in itself faces such an awfully enormous identity crisis is the damn question. Love is what happens when you're part loser, part superstar. Sometimes it comes all of a sudden when you're sitting tight with a Rushdie novel and very bad coffee; sometimes when you're avoiding it at all costs; and sometimes it doesn't come at all. 

I can say with certainty that I've fallen in love a million times - I fall in love everyday. Sometimes with a song, sometimes with a character, almost always with food.  I think people are bad with love; they either give it toomuch importance, or no importance at all. Not very often do I fall in love with people. I have fallen i n love with people exactly two and a half times.

But well, this person I'm in love with right now seems to be the best thing to have happened to me. 

A big hug to A.