this is, of course, another paper on man's inability to control his destiny. the idea of falling in love always seems like the perfect descriptor, an synaethesic almost onomatopoeic concept described here as descent into this emotion always involves a certain willing/unwillingness as we thump down loves inclination.

I describe the softness that is that emotional upsurge, but this accompanies an oddly harsh reality just below the surface. even in the most innocent relationship there is a danger of hurting and being hurt. tumbling down this flight of stairs wrapped in a not too thick cushion is the experience of banging your head on a step just hard enough to make you say "ouch," but not quite hard enough to make you write poems that say "love hurts."

oops, or maybe just that hard...

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