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I see two people on a crowded bus. An older couple: weathered faces, glasses in similar frames, salt-and-pepper hair, wedding bands dulled by years… They sit very close, arms intertwined, her head resting on his shoulder. From time to time, she turns her face towards his and murmurs something in his ear. He smiles in response and gently rubs his forehead on hers, and the gesture is imbued with such tenderness that it makes the wet, grumpy morning passengers smile–even the punk kid wearing large headphones and a spiky collar.

It is raining.

Another two passengers sitting side by side. Two men. One of them is holding a smartphone, they are watching something, and I realize that each is wearing an earbud. Their heads touch; they are absorbed by the images flickering on the small screen between them; a blaze is all I can see. The bus is getting more crowded with each stop, but the two seem completely insulated from the crowd, as though the world is theirs and theirs alone.

I see love.

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