vérité

vérité we can suggest, perhaps, love is a harbinger of truth: what does that make love, then? is love the moment when you’re sitting without pants on the cool kitchen tile, it’s 2am and you’re drinking whole milk out of the carton with a sense of desperation, the milk dripping down your chin and onto your sleep shirt, that candid moment that made you feel pornographic and alive? love lives inside these moments where no one is around to watch us, but we must carry the self-awareness and shame everywhere we go. it’s like when you look into a person’s eyes, and you are amazed at how little they know about what you do when you’re alone. that is a different kind of love, i think. that is a love for the future, for possibility; for there is some reassurance, probably from all the movies you’ve seen, that you willl meet someone one day and the way you act when you’re alone will come out, you will be dancing strangely, lopsided, to a brian eno song, and they will look at you and feel a warmth that suggests total acceptance.