Love is movement. James Salter wrote this sentence. I will ponder it.
It seems true to me, that love has to move. Stasis implies decay or death. The movement doesn’t need to be swift. It could be dilatory or incremental. Perhaps even meandering. It seems impossible that the movement could be predictable. Really, how does love move? Maybe it moves like stunted cedars in a wind storm. Does it make a sound?
I think about my great loves. They all had movement in them, some incredibly fast movement. When I ran with the dogs on the beach, that was love moving with abandon.
Some of the loves stopped. Some inch ahead like tectonic plates.
Can you restart the movement of a stopped love? Possibly. Perhaps it is worth a try. I’ve got one in mind.
Is the movement of love moving faster in the digital age? Or just haphazard or erratic movement?
A love letter written on paper is so slow. Or is it? Does it move love along faster than a text message? If it’s not faster nor slower, perhaps it’s better movement.
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