Love

Love is probably the biggest word in the English language. I have never looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary, or even Webster's, but I can only imagine that it would take volumes to talk about all the sorts of love there are.

Love is so liquid it leaks out into everything else. Into grief and joy, pity and pain.

I see it in the bare bones of a sculpture I bought. Pure, unadulterated love. No trappings necessary. No heart, real or crayoned in. Nothing but adoration pouring from one human being to another.

Love like that can't be bought. It can't be dressed up, or down. It can't even be vocalized.

Few things are that pure, that perfect that nothing could improve it.