He read about love as if it were nature. As if it were a force that you would never want to escape. As if it were the mud and the trees and the wind and the moonlight that is cast down upon your naked body. As if it were the air you breathe and the blood that rises inside you. As if it were something beautiful, and giving, and all-encompassing. A catharsis, like screaming and crying and finally acknowledging your suffering. Something intimate. Something burning. Something warm.
