How fathers introduce the world to us and give us those long life important lectures at the dinner table. The way our mothers introduce us to the world and run when their ears ring with our infant cries. In fact, our life is a series of love taken for granted. I guess it’s the kind of term people still struggle to define and the term that mankind hasn’t been able to settle a single definition on. Love has no bounds because love is not related or restricted to any particular thing or person. Love gives us a perfect heart, a heart that’s selfless, generous, compassionate, perfect in its imperfection. In fact, a perfect heart has holes with love we’ve given away, it has mismatched pieces of other people who gave us a broken piece of their heart, only to fill those very holes left by others. Paulo Coelho writes "a perfect heart is not one that lacks a mess of scars and tears".
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