Grand gestures and petty emotions. I gift you with an inch and you want seven and a half hours. Something so far fetched that not even the great Aristotle can philosophically concur a meaning. Just as we learn that the Earth is not flat, contrary to popular myth, you present my world with the insane notion of interplanetary jumping. Preying on the naivety of my innocent thinking, you send me a post card with: "How does one count to ten without starting at zero?" And before I can begin to formulate the slightest educated answer to your question, some unknown scientist publishes one sentence that turns my faith into disbelief and debauched reasoning: "Love is, by my own definition, the only perception of non-truth that ends up being true."
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