It’s all fiction, specially when it involves language. Thinking about something is pure creation, as nothing is as we can grasp.
I’m mentally unnable to stick to 2 dimensions. That’s one of the many flaws my fictional children would end up inheriting.
Does using one’s menstrual blood to feed plants count as spreading one’s life or is equivalent to shitting where you eat? On that note, I’m thinking if we still grew what we eat, maybe shitting near it could even be good for business, as they say.
It’s all profoundly cathartic, from where I see it. Not only Love. Love is just the happiest aspect of it all.
I’m sorry for the crudeness, it is Halloween and I’m a witch after all, you said it yourself. :)