But that explanation can’t tell you what it’s like to be an actual father who loves his daughter, who would do anything to protect her and keep her safe. Explaining the physics, the chemistry, the biology, and the neuroscience of this moment is like projecting sheet music onto a movie screen instead of listening to the symphony. To explain the love I have for my daughter, I can’t ask the scientist for help. I need the poet or the painter. I need a song or a sonnet. Beauty can only be described with beauty—there’s no substitute.
