It has been 15 years since I last saw you. Heard your name on the street today. It wasn’t you. Didn’t see who it was. But I felt you. I experienced the warmth of your presence just as it was when you were there when that name was called. Were you there when you were with me or are you there when I can still feel you?
Does your presence have to necessarily depend on you? You are as imagined a companion today as you were then. Just that I never knew that.
Sometimes we love our imagination.. never can we love without distance. Love is just that – a baggage. A past movie playing itself over and over again… the actor is not performing every time – we know that – just the action has been arrested and played back. It doesn’t mean much. It didn’t mean even when the actors acted the part. It was someone playing a make believe role which wasn’t.
So, what is Love? And it is not?
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