To The Side

Getting through the first 100 pages of a book is my own mental milestone of "yep, good book". I'm starting to notice in my daily life that certain timetables, like the one above, exist routinely. A few bites of pasta. Latest Britney single. Scion's new car. Or even that puzzling building (is this fake?)

But not love. Love is instantaneous. Loving something you wrote, loving a photograph you took, or loving a person you met. I would argue with anyone if they told me love grows over time for something that you're personally invested in (past the obvious investment, monetary value). Love was there, and maybe it does grow, but growing into love doesn't exist. That's learned admiration and approval. That's love made entirely of denial.