I always forget to come back here.
I'm afraid I am too lazy to sit and just write what I feel.
I have a lot to share, my recent trip to London and Prague, going back to uni, having a part-time job, my academic future, but I'll postpone all that for a little bit longer. Today I am sharing the beauty of holding hands.
When we are young we hold the hands of our parents. To prevent us from running down the street and being hit by a car, to help us walking, or maybe just because we are having a walk at the park. When we reach adolescence we like to hold our lover's hand to express the passion, the commitment. However, when we get older those kind of expressions disappear. You still see couples hugging or perhaps a kiss once in a while, but that sense of showing affection in public when we pass the 40s is gone.
A couple of days ago I saw an old couple having a walk with their hands holding tight. The lady was not holding her husband's arm to help her walking, they were simply walking holding their hands. I then realised, and maybe I am quite naive, that true love must be that - getting that age and still be in love. Walking down a street holding hands.
