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  • Writer's pictureChloe Roweth


Love? Love? What can I say that a billion writers have not said already? Well.. here goes… Falling. Mostly falling. The great joyous fall. Then - sometimes - the pain of failure to live up to love. But oh the joy! That big rush of first love, revealing strange parts of you that were previously not within your ken. That love - is madness. I feel overwhelmed by fortune to have experienced it in a mainline adult dose - three times. That’s my other half and two kids. I’m glad I won’t experience it again. That love is crazy big.

But even deeper - wider - is the forever running river love that flows under all. I know I’ll never cross, ford, negotiate that one - and this is a good thing. I’ll just swim. When I’m lazy, I’ll float. We’ll paddle our own canoe. Oh - and I’ll always have a line in. There’s always a soul feed of fish to be had. Are gill-nets illegal in that river? Answer yes, or turn your head. This is the river love that powers my world. It doesn’t run dry. A permanent transiency, forever anew. Love? That’s about it.

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