To love someone is an act of justice. Everyone deserves a little bit of love. And by spreading our own wings—by knowing how we can best love ourselves in the most inconceivable little ways—we can do more justice to the small steps we need to take as a human race in order to let the idea of love take root everywhere.
Somehow, I still believe in love. It escapes me from time to time, because love is fragile and always on the move. But I have seen it. And once you have seen something, you cannot pretend it does not exist.
Over the years, love slipped from my hands—sometimes because I broke it, sometimes because I tried to mend it when it was broken. But love is not an object. I learned that. It took hard lessons, but in the end I had to believe that love is everywhere. It sits in the atoms that life is made of. And if we are not afraid to listen to the message it speaks, we can engage with it. Then life becomes lighter—almost absurdly so—because humanity has finally received the message that the atoms themselves are key to the great survival of this wonderful planet.
There is something a good storyteller does: he knows how and when his characters want to work with him on the tale he is telling. In a way, he tells it together with them. You could even say that he was not the one who came up with the idea to tell the story at all—the characters themselves felt it was time to reveal themselves.
Every step of the story process becomes a symbiosis between his ideas and theirs. Whether you like the tale is another matter. It is not about taste; it is about the artist realizing that there may be more at work than simply the act of telling.
Maybe love works the same way. It floats around us, engaging with us. And when we love, we step into a symbiosis with that which was already there. Whatever creation prepares for us, we see it for what it is: another chance to deepen our relationship with ourselves, with each other, and with love itself.
From love come the greatest stories ever told—real, true, and powerful.
