LVI

Just a hopeless romantic stuck with a cynicism-only vocabulary. I only sound in love when I write it down. Ask me out loud and you wont hear it from me. But that’s the beauty of love, is it not? It makes us into what we are not and who we are not secretly becomes who we are. The fears and doubts and protective outer-layers we’ve successfully sealed ourselves up in are not always broken down, but they are always breached – perhaps imperceptibly, through a deep drain or a secret passage – so that what we are on the outside may appear the same, but on the inside nothing is left untouched with love. The hopefulness, the inexplicable joy, the laughter at nothing at all, and the wonder. Maybe the walls will crumble eventually, burst from the inside out. But if they do not, it matters not. For inside, love is ours, and that is the whole world.

[Image: Akila Berjaoui]

LV

I hope you never know what I did to love you. I hope they never tell you. I hope you never know the risks I took, the doubts I fought off, the tears I wiped away and the heart that ached all too long. I hope you never know what I did in the name of love, for you – because I don’t want you to love me back because I did them, I want you to love me because. Full stop. End of explanation. Because words aren’t enough and breath too few and life too short and moments too fleeting to tell of the love you have for me. Full stop. Not enough, so just because. That is what I did it for, nothing more, nothing less. Than love.  

[Image: Akila Berjaoui - of course of course]

LIV

An open love letter to the bravest souls on planet earth,

To anyone who’s ever crossed oceans for love. To anyone who’s ever faked a love of fine art, or quick-crammed knowledge of ancient Rome or spent more money than they had to spend for love. To anyone who’s ever agreed to a new home, a new culture, a new way of life and a new skyline for love. To anyone who’s ever promised, “I’ll wait for you”, who’s ever lost a presence and gained a pen pal, who’s ever waited by the phone for love. To anyone who’s ever granted a second (third, fourth, fifth) chance, who’s learnt to forgive or just to forget. Who’s learnt to trust again, for love. I salute you. I hope they made it worth it. I pray they gave you all that you deserve. Because you gave it to them. Because love is a risk worth taking.

Because only the people crazy enough to believe that love exists, are the ones who find it at home in their hearts.

[Image: Akila Berjaoui - of course]

LIII

A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Greetings, non-existent cyber audience. I'm issuing a warning - the next few post are all about love. And they're achey and sweet and sticky and too-much-pink-frosting. So if that's not your thing, continue not visiting for a while. And if it is, well maybe start?

End.

[Image: Akila Berjaoui]

LII

To a life full of wonder. To second chances and small beginnings. To do or die for love and to heads held high. To the untold stories and the unwhispered words. To the moments of silence and of solitude. To the hard yards and the break-neck-speed-of-things moments. To the hanging on and the sticking through. To friendship and to family and most of all - to love. 

To these things I say, thank you.