colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.

colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.
colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality.

colomarlacroix:Is love real? Surely it’s a human construct. A hedge against the terror of mortality. I believe that, but it doesn’t account for the times I’ve felt it myself. My mother. Irene. Even, after a fashion, with Watson. -- source link


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