Why does love - the absence of love, the end of love, the need for love - result in so much violence? Hope for the unknown is good. It is better than hatred of the familiar.
what would we be like when we became too old to distinguish a lemon from a damn potato should there still be anyone by our side? should there still be people whispering to our ears describing how we lived a remarkable life? or should we be just gone and alone? you never know..