It the thing that drives us as human, the very thing we promise ourselves.
Love comes in different forms of the beholder. The essence progress. The gain of reason. Hell, even a poison to fancy.
But what you see here, an awkward man. For very the thing that he loved most, the place that kept him safe. Is now fading away into the forgotten past as many.
Dying inside, but longing for the light that he calls friend. All he sees in this place are soon to be books of blank pages.
He bites his finger, the pen is ready.
Love hasn't brought this man to darkness.
It drives him, to a path he must make. Life and love go hand in hand.
So does birth.