Love takes up space. Large and small. It makes us claustrophobic in cubicles and fills up a large room, like light from a chandelier or even music from a harp. Love is abstract and yet, you can see it. In people's eyes, in ordinary things, in purses, in between sheets, in between fingernails and in between legs. In the folds of their skin, in the folds of their clothes, under train seats and in between sofa cushions. On tops of tables, in photoframes, in dreams, in phone memory cards, in shoeboxes buried in cupboards, in incomplete sentences, in lost and found boxes.
Love takes up space. Solid space. And when it leaves, it leaves behind emptiness - palpable, visible emptiness so thick and so hard and so huge, you wonder, how emptiness could ever get this heavy, in the first place.