One Of The Beautiful And Terrible Things

But Love Is Different For Every Person. For Some It's Hate, For Some It's Joy, For Some It's Fear, For Some It's Jealousy, For Some It's Torture, For Some It's Peace. For Some It's Everything.

For Years I Supported Capital Punishment, But I Have Come To Believe That Our Criminal Justice System Is Incapable Of Adequately Distinguishing Between The Innocent And Guilty. It Is Reprehensible And Immoral To Gamble With Life And Death.

We Stare Into Each Other's Eyes And Softly Kiss Speaking And Saying More With The Movement Of Our Lips And The Tips Of Our Fingers Than Words Will Allow Us To Say. Words Can't Say This. The One Word Love Means Too Little For What It Is. It Means Everything And That Is Still Not Enough. It Doesn't Communicate Even A Fraction Of The Feelings Involved. Love. The Word Is Not Enough For What It Is. Love. Love.

I Think Of How And Why And What Happened And The Thoughts Come Easily, But The Answers Don't.

L.a Is A Huge Place, Literally And Metaphorically. Its Beauty And Horror. Its Unconventional History. Its Draw And Allure. Its Diversity And Segregation.