Love, and things that look like love;
Things that could pass for love if seen from a distance;
The feelings that one would call love on a warm day, but mere obsession in the winter;
Love, and other, almost indistinguishable sensations, the flutter of a heart that does not know its way.
Love, love that might have been or might yet be; things that one man would call love but another might be dubious about.
Love and things that masquerade as love.
And things that might be love in another life,