“You think because you understand one, you must understand two, because one and one make two. But you must also understand and.”
-Rumi
Love is a paradox. It is both work and wonder, fleeting and eternal. It finds us unbidden, defies reason, and yet demands commitment—a contradiction we willingly embrace. We search for it, we build our lives around it, we shape ourselves in its light.
We like to think we understand love. But what do we make of love when it is lost? Does it vanish, as fleeting as the words we once whispered in the dark? Or does it linger, etched into the ordinary objects and moments it touched?
This is the story of a search. It begins with a watering can. A small, unassuming thing meant to symbolize something far greater—a love that was equal parts gravity and grace.
And yet, this is not just a love story. It is a story about memory, loss, and the extraordinary ways we make sense of what it means to be human.
This story lives in the 'and.' It is a story of holding on and letting go.
Of love, and its aftermath.