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Nothing as important as love. Nothing that touches us so intimately. Nothing that expresses more fully the desolation of solitude, the abyss, doubt. Nothing as magical as the touch of skin upon skin. Nothing as mysterious as that contact between two beings. Because this encounter makes us believe that death cannot come near us, that even as we are now, naked and vulnerable, we will live to the end of time. Nothing as eternal as the fleeting union between two who have the power to astound each other. And nothing as improbable as that coming together; were there but one missing link in the chain of the ancestors, the chain would have been dissolved. Were but a single ancestor removed and not be a link toward the formation of a new couple—and it is the couple that determines the course of the centuries—you would not be here, you would not be who you are, your lips would not be the lips I know. It is improbable, nearly impossible, that you exist, and because you exist, despite everything, a victorious triumph over fate, only I can love you.