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3 Jan 2013
Sixsmith sits quietly; provides variations on the word ‘love.’
Love is a product of study, a scientific breakthrough; a labour of love. Love is a tragically doomed idealist ready to follow his lover’s body into the dark, into death. Love is Robert Frobisher, skin musky after a night of dancing together in a smoke-filled room. Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.
Love is just a word, embellished.