There was a sadness in her eyes when I pulled away. Heaven knows I hated to be the cause of it…. even if it meant that I was loved. I think about it often enough, the awkwardness of that embrace, but also the purity of it, the sincerity of it. Moments like those leave us wondering if we will ever feel to that extent again, if the depths of such emotion are to be plumbed once and no more.

          It certainly feels that way; seems as though we barely escaped with our lives, our dignity. Moments like those teach us that we are capable of a love beyond reason, beyond one’s capacity for logic. I try to tear it apart, to analyze it and with all my words I cannot define it. I cannot parse out its inner workings or discover by what mechanism it so seizes the brain and turns intelligence to infantile mumblings.

         This is not a confession I often make, to admit an inability to understand a concept. Yet, it is the confession I make now. I confess that I do not understand love and its ability to arise from nothing more than the meeting of two strangers.