I
wonder how does love compare to love when the file inside can be
empty or filled with multiples that may or may not indicate the way
language and emotion in individual and historical ways are
understood. And when sharing with others the things of the mind,
there is a valence that it seems can never be crossed.
Relationships, even, or maybe especially, love, has to balance
intrinsic expectations with exterior information. How can I relate
to the World outside self with this condition of mystery when it
comes to the most basic of feelings, even the most profound feeling,
my love.
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