Thinking about
"Love is not ownership it's simpler than that, and more rare" and the deeper implications of that
Of a woman in 1600s France knowing that to be loved, to be married, is not to be owned, and to have the desire for that, to have loved once and to put your trust in the fact that such a love exists and to go out on a limb to love someone else, even after experiencing the loss that comes with losing love...
To force yourself to get up day after day, alone with your grief and to see someone else like you... To know you're taking a risk and to go for it anyways... Knowing how rare what you yearn for is and to dare to hope for it anyways...
It's powerful










