Each man and woman affect faces, but these are but tides upon a vast ocean. It is easy to call love between a man and woman, as two people by their nature bound to one another, their affection born from identities that fit together as pieces of a puzzle. But there is, to a person, a nature prescribed them, but there is also their story, and the two intermingle as the ocean laps up on the land. To call a love a destiny is only to release from thought and responsibility. For things do not happen for the will of the universe. The universe very little cares about the trifling affairs of its countless self-reflection. Love happens because it is wished for, and affected.

Yet love, and not just the fancies of a wistful mind, but real and deep love can crash upon one like a thunderbolt, and change, in a single moment, everything.