We wanted to be tough and unsentimental, but we couldn’t let go even of the word, we couldn’t stop clutching at it, the corners of the L and the V and the spikes of the E cutting into our palms, blood pooling at the centre of the O. Either it (love) was the blandishments of culture seducing us, Robert Pattinson seducing us, Katy Perry seducing us, away from our true purpose of transformation, or it (love) was the true kernel of the world that we would eventually arrive at, once we’d broken it apart. Either it (love) was a prefiguration or a red herring, either it was a Trojan horse against us or it was us inside the Trojan horse. For a while, dizzy, I stopped saying “love” and would only use the gerund, loving, loving, thinking by this replacement to smuggle in permanence under the counterfeit of constant activity. I envied K his talent for intimacy.
-Hannah Black, “K in Love”