I once saw two trees that were already old and rickety. Each of them tried their best to bend their bodies towards each other, just to make the branches and leaves tangled and always close together.
They have the closest distance, depend on each other for life and death, and are close to each other.
The connection between the branches and leaves is joy and pain.
Is love just about pricking each other with branches so that we can embrace each other and remember each other?
Good things always have to be exchanged for deep pain?