#(musing.)

Yes. he's present in the sexual and the filthy and the base and the corrupt. But he's also just as present in the drive that keeps you awake until sunrise finishing a book because it was just that good; he's in the one and only glass of wine you indulge in after a very long, difficult day; he's in the way you could spend the rest of your life refining and perfecting and refining and perfecting a single magnum opus and, as a result, never finish it.

sweet, sticky, they have a earthy, honey like flavor. figs were cleopatra's favorite fruit. she ordered that the snake she intended to end her life with, be brought to her hidden in a basket of figs. an ancient fruit that has always fascinated painters, poets and storytellers. yours too is a love that should belong to books and paintings. your love is steady, the people you love know how deep your feelings are because you always remember them how much you love and desire them, and that you will always be there. maybe not with words, expressing your feelings might not be easy for you. it's your actions and attentions that let them know, because they feel seen and heard. figs are luscious, sensual fruits. you're a passionate lover, you crave warmth and touch. you do not fall in love easily, maybe you used to when you were younger but you have now learned better. because you learned that when you love you give it all, you sacrifice a lot and you cannot do that carelessly. like the female fig wasp that, when entering an unripe fig to pollinate its flowers, loses her antennae and wings. you're a quiet devoted lover. yours is an unwavering deeply rooted love. your love is intense, almost overwhelming like figs are, swollen with hundreds of seeds. there's something quite disturbing when looking at its flesh. but that's what it gives it that crunchy, popping feeling, the same of a love that does not know boredom. but beware. you might be a lot to handle, and some times it might be hard for you to remember that not everyone loves as fiercely as you do. let your intensity be a gift, not a burden.

while he will read everything, i do think he has his own reservations about the sentimental: he can't relate to romance stories; he doesn't come from an upbringing where love is defined by common language. love is displayed with power, love is displayed with excess and materialism. love is conditioned to success and to how much worth he can bring to the household. reading stories where love is the center of it all in a way that's too idealistic even for today's standards isn't something he enjoys, and for him it's a form of fiction.