As Demoozi was roasting in the sun shadow, the theme dominating his thoughts was exactly this question: Why so little?
As he seemingly quietly, was waiting the moments run by, his brain was folding and unfolding, skimming over then diving, ebbing and flowing attempting to find an exact simple answer to that exact simple question.
So little love. Could it be the same as so little oxygen?
He had learnt that we live constantly seeking and by oxygen, yet we harbor so little of it at any single time. That is because our viable tissues will just burn if oxygen was too abundant in its vicinity, yet we die so quickly when its absent.
Could it be that our vitality too, be that sensitive to love? Could it be that in spite of the fact that we always yearn for love, we are not capable of surviving too much of it? Could its abundance burn us, completely extinguish our flame, evaporates our viability?
A lightly, lovingly placed, whip lash can unleash pleasure.
A well organized bite can produce emotions.
A hinting look can bring back memories.
A magic wand, if touches a frog lightly will produce a prince, sharply, will make all vanish.
A lot of chocolate, a lot of sea, a lot of nothing, a lot of everything…
It only makes sense; a lot of love is incompatible with life.
Queen bees do not fall in love, butterflies do, they burn themselves loving!
It took Demoozi, so many pains, and so many heartbreaks to get to be this strong, this ready for the ultimate love. The love he is capable of disappearing into, of apocalypsing in. In his mind, no one else is ready; not yet.