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LOVE IS NOT LOVE 1. It was never love. Not love. It was what the Italians call the thunderbolt. We stared. We exchanged eyes. It was easy. Not what we might have wanted. Not what we had planned. Many things were snatched away like thistledown in the high and gusty winds of our home town. Many things arrived like the burden of a new language. As if the kaleidoscope had been given a vigorous shake and fallen into a new pattern. And then broken. We shuddered, and woke. 2. I saw fear in his eyes, but we stepped forward, we took hands, just like lovers do, the ceremony wound up with the pragmatic certainty of a dream. The children stirred and knew it was nearly time. The words we said shook us to the bone. Who knew that words could be so precise, that we ...