Life is a line of time. Full of years, months, weeks, days. Love is a feeling, full of smiles, fights, kisses, sorrys. Love, on the time line of life, is a collection of single moments, seconds, and brief specs of time. These moments conquer all of life because these brief moments of all-powerful love, can feel like an eternity, of peace and perfection. When all the crazy broken rigid edges of irrational life just seem to all fall into the perfect place. To make a beautiful picture, that takes your breath away and just as you feel your whole existence makes sense, as you exhale just deep enough you feel it in your toes, the entire picture shifts and changes and the pieces jumble and break, they tear and disappear, into chaos, once again. But for that spec on the time line of life, everything was perfect. Completely seamless. And those miniscule specs, in the end, are the only things that matter. The moments we can count matter. The search and fight for the tiniest second of perfection is the only thing that makes life worth living. To feel every bit of breath leave your body, with every bit of pain and sadness release off your shoulders, to view life in a whole new way you never imagined to see it before, you feel immortal and nothing could ever feel as endless as that moment.