she wasn’t a black hole, she decided. she was a volcano. and like a volcano she couldn’t run away from herself. she’d have to stay there and tend to that wasteland.
she could plant a forest inside herself.
love.
you could eat in the finest restaurants, you could partake in every sensual pleasure, you could sing on stage in são paulo to twenty thousand people, you could soak up whole thunderstorms of applause, you could travel to the ends of the earth, you could be followed by millions on the internet, you could win olympic medals, but this was all meaningless without love.
“every life contains many millions of decisions. some big, some small. but every time one decision is taken over another, the outcomes differ. an irreversible variation occurs, which in turn leads to further variations.”