There always has to be a love story. As the verb to be symbolices, a love story exists and surely for something. Hard, yet delicate hearts overheat with passion. Long nights and lack of any care for what surrounds us. Time passes slowly, yet it seems that it is too short. Some kind of heroic yet boicotering barrier is always in between of the two protagonist flames. A fight against time and space. A fight against the resonating and echoing clock, which marks the end of an adventure to remember, remember with nostalgia. A great battle against all the eventualities and implications that discreetly penetrate the symbiosis. How bitter can these nobel novels be. How hot can your blood turn. How unsettled can your mind become. Yet, among all the dark shadows where love hides it’s stories, a soft and warm body is found. A body of dreams, passions and desperate sights. A symbol for the most sublime art : To love and be loved. This is why we look for these stories, this is why there is always a love story. We want to dance at our most natural tune. The suffering melody, as by mere consequence, the love flow. The burning blade that melts when it touches our skin. The spontaneous folly that surges form two simple gazes. I want to live. I live for all these stories which hide under the human game. I want to be. I want to be one with life. Live your love story, live this life.