but if love is a fleeting experience on earth,
then why does grief last forever?

why do we mourn the ephemeral, why do we regret the love we have for something that was never going to last forever?

do we walk into fire, like a moth drawn to flame, and expect to not be burned but also laugh at silly icarus for flying too close to the sun?

perhaps, we are all just kindred spirits in search for something boundless in a limited world.

or perhaps, it is better to think like meursault: one could come and go, and it would leave no dent or emptiness in the world.