Is this love? I prefer a cup of coffee at breakfast, but is that love? And if - it is not so cooked? And if he has a different taste? What if…?

I love scents ... really?

Different moods, different surroundings, and - in the sultry summer, the smell of rose oil, previously adored, will seem suffocating, and the aroma of freshness on a winter day - like a mockery of me, frozen and frozen ...

I love? I prefer ...

I love? Crazy ... does it happen? Sometimes…

When the soul does not listen to the mind, when it leads after itself, seeing not the shortcomings of the beloved, but the most wonderful thing, why she, the soul, suddenly noticed him ...

The soul does not think for what to love. She does not speak aloud, she only feels and knows - here he is, she, whom she simply - loves. Ask for what - he will not answer, he will not say anything.

Ask why she might stop loving - she won't even think about it. It's a matter of reason to think, analyze, put everything on the shelves, then mix it up in a heap and put things in order again. And she, our soul - just loves without asking questions ...