Let me tell you a few words about love.
All the sweethearts fall in the same blindness over and over.
The touch of a snake is deceiving, and her kiss makes you numb before you decay, love stories never survive without family, and never unfold without sacrifices.
Lovers of Shakespeare are phantoms and vanishing shades of a dead antiquity.
Lovers can be twisted, perverted, scratching care with a kitten's claws, hurting admiration, bleeding dishonesty.
What is love?
Can anyone please crack his cipher, unshackling the mystery of the invisible beast?