Soft As An Easy Chair.

It's about time we spoke about love.

It's February, isn't it?

Love in the beginning is pretty, flirty, exciting. It teases and charms, and beckons with an index finger. It shows a leg. It smells of heaven. It smiles in the most secret of moments, and it remembers every little thing, every little word, every little inside joke.

A little later, Love becomes stronger, more assertive. It is defiant, and demanding. It asks as much as it gives. It's a little more work. Sometimes, it goes back to flirting, but then it quickly comes to, and remembers who it is. It is now more serious.

In the next level, Love begins to develop other feelings that are just as strong. It needs them to balance it; for it to be felt in all it's glory, it must be compared to it's opposites. For Love to stand out, for it to be the first choice of emotion, for it to be a concrete option and the best answer, it has to stand with all those other feelings.

Love is nothing to me but a home-base. It reminds me of the things that are so rare in this world, something that is fragile, that can so easily be lost. It is a moment that you either catch or miss. It's not as romantic as it sounds, not as abstract as I make it.

Instead, it is like money, or a voice, or material possessions, something you value that is tangible. Something that needs as much attention as everything else. 

Okay, that's all I know of it. I've never been in love. So tell me.