What is love? I know it is that vague warm feeling inside of you. But what is it really? If you could deconstruct it into its elementary parts, only listing the outward-facing things. What would you get? You get for instance the beautiful contours of her cheekbones. A delicate collarbone visible because she wears her oversized shirt to one side. It’s the outer edges of her lips refracturing the light so-so seductively. Or her long-long hair moving over your naked body, while the softest parts of her press gently against you. This is what we remember of a past love — bits and pieces like chards of glass on the floor. Making you bleed every time you dare to walk a path down memory lane.