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February 3, 2014
Love.

It's one thing everybody seems bent on chasing, yet it flees at a speed faster than light. Whatever remnant it leaves, though, is enough to deceive - a deception that creates this mistaken impression that Love was caught.

I have never joined the chase, but I would never admit it to this raucous crowd who would gladly stamp-out any sign of deviance. Perhaps he saw in me the lack of love's binding chains as he lay on the verge of unconsciousness. "Hold my hand," he said in a breaking voice. "Take my love and use it as your own."