I would hardly call myself a lover of love, I know very little about it, I've seen years go by, couples get to know each other, get married and then divorce, and I can not help but wonder, what's the point of love?

 And I guess maybe everyone does it, everyone at some point may wonder the same as me.

And I don't know if you have already noticed, but the world seems to revolve around love, the Sun suddenly ceases to be a star to which we go round and round, making love the center of our orbit, of our minds and lives.

But why does this happen? Is it so necessary, like the singing to a bird? Or like the mother to a son? Necessary to express ourselves, necessary to feel.

Love is like that, of a nature difficult to explain but necessary, a kind of very fragile magic that we all want to have.

One day I heard an old man talk about love, I thought he was crazy, but now it makes sense, the gentleman talked about love existing in everything we did, at that time I believed that love could only exist between couples, but what that man said came into my mind for many and many years, until now that I have finally been able to understand it.

Love is in the roses, in the coffee, in the birds, in the everyday life that surrounds us, how ironic that we fight to have it and look for it so much, when without noticing it has always been there, in those strangers who smile at you on the bus, in the breakfast, in everything, in every science, as a spark that gives us the fuel to continue.

We are complex beings, formed by emotions, feelings, entire universes that inhabit us, so different but so equal, even sometimes with the same needs, we suffer, we grow, we heal, we advance, and among all this, only something remains constant, like a faithful friend, where you least believe, there is love.