There are two expressions of love, she said. Either you lock the flower in seclusion, that way you get to worship its beauty and sink in its love everyday whole day, or you watch it grow away from you, in its roots, in its entirety. You bear the anxiety of separation and jubilance of union each day anew, and watch it grow petal by petal eventually fading into a vacant stem.
The problem is, my friend, most people are only familiar with the former.
The notes she thought her absence will open, were now being revealed one by one. Subtly, right before her eyes. The chords she had perceived too stringent to play, were now melting in anguish. The sounds she had longed to hear, now touched her hearing here and there.
Oh the course of life! How unpredictable. How infinitesimal is the ginormous will of a man, he hopes to cling to for the rest of his life.