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Driving home after eating dinner at Caspian Restuarnt with two perfect and beautiful friends. Tonight I saw two new facial expressions in each of them. L with her love for A, and A with his love for L. You now know who they are. They are every memory you've ever carried of love. The way love helps us to see ourselves new again. Once in a time past I introduced these two lovers to one another. Would they call themselves lovers? If not, then what? I often see myself as a lover. Of leaves and tiny eye-attracting rocks cemented in pavement. Of so many things. Of flying kites. Blue skies and big puffy white clouds. The smell of sweat on skin after being outside all day, the wind blowing the scent of leaves and flowers onto the body. There is more. There is always more.

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