Love was big and loud and messy. Love rocked on the floor, head in hands, eyes running with mascara and angst. Love slammed doors and stalked out into the night, too wrought up to button its coat or brush its hair. Love was not something you chose or wanted; love rode you hard and tore you up. Love broke you.
harriet brown. the new york times. ‘modern love’. feb 26th, 2010.