My Female Tenant

What is love, really, and where does it originate? I find myself unable to fully comprehend it. Perhaps what we call love is merely a colorful butterfly, captivating to behold, yet forever elusive. If you try to grasp it tightly in your hand, it will struggle and, in its struggle, rub off all its hues, leaving it pale.

I seem to understand a little now, why I've become so cautious. It's because I fear touching her soul, only to erase the beautiful colors that adorn it.

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A tale of pure love between a man with nothing to his name and a beautiful female tenant.