When love finds fertile ground, it doesn’t know how to wait. It makes that worst winter an endless spring inside those who feel it and, if you can see it, it causes summers in the smiles present. Like a child who has learned to walk, he doesn’t understand the pain of a possible fall, but only the joy of making his legs take him anywhere.

Don’t hide. It reveals itself in all its beauty and wants more is to shout to the whole world what it carries. No “STOP” sign will be able to stop your progress. Anyone who hears a “let’s take it easy” at the beginning can be sure that it’s not love yet. He, perhaps, even knows how to wait when felt only on one side. When platonic, then, it can be kept in a drawer for years on end without actually going to live elsewhere.

However, being reciprocal – or pretentiously reciprocal – there will be no strings attached. Not the forbidden, not the dangerous, not the unacceptable. Who forbids you to exist? Who doesn’t venture into it? Who does not accept love? Love is selfie. It directly competes with food photos in number of posts and statements, but I think people saying they’re hungry still win by a slight edge.

Anyway, it’s worth tagging in a post, it’s sending a song and not caring about public displays of affection. It’s from a picture in the park, from a song on the radio, from a lazy Sunday. Love is to be waited at the door of work, it is a surprise and a pleasure. It’s moon too. Look at the moon, mostly.

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Feels jealous, verges on possession. As if that whole garden was his, love blooms from one breast to the other and takes over. Need to be careful not to become harm. Weeds kill any beautiful landscape. You can counter-argument in any way and amend it with “loving is very complicated”, but you will always find me saying that the beauty of love is that it is complicatedly simple, being the most difficult to achieve this simplicity.

Still, love is not one to hide. And if I tell you that, it’s because I’ve made enough mistakes to learn my lesson. I once believed that feeling shouldn’t be exposed. For a period, perhaps. For a maturation, who knows. But full love is such a big blow that it can’t get away with it. It overflows and intoxicates.

There is no way to take just one dose.

It may even be that someone I know will tell me that, when I was supposed to act like this, I didn’t. If I say all this today, it’s because I understood where I went wrong and I admit: I didn’t always really understand what I felt. And maybe I still haven’t really learned what love is, but I can say with all the letters that love doesn’t hide or hide.

When it’s real and reciprocal, love appears, plays, germinates and sprouts, like those in a book: everyone knows about it.