An old man, dressed in checkered pants with a cream sweater that was very frayed, walked up in front of the crowd that had gathered for a reason other than to listen to him speak, and spoke.
"I, can't talk about love, as much as I used to. Because, love, is not something that, when one gets to my age, is spoken about. The more love you have, in your life, the less, there is to say."
He held up an old finger into the air. He constantly spoke, as if he was out of breath, which he was.
"If it is true, that is. Love, is not something that should be described, but experienced. It has an essence that fills your bones, and all you can say is that you have it, and feel it, over, and over You, can never, explain it more deeply, than that. It is not a failure of language. All things, have there limits. Limits, are not failures. They are, simply, limits."
The crowd had no idea what was going on, yet the old man kept talking.
"Advice, can and has, and will be, given on how to love. And that is because love, and behavior, are not the same thing. It can be easy to love, we all love, we all love easy. We act, like children, often because of love. I can't say whether it is a good thing, or a bad thing. But behavior because of love, out of love, is not love. It is behavior, and love is not, and never will be, an action."
The crowd, mostly of young adults or teenagers, were listening.
"Your world, and my world. Are the same world. My love, and your love. The same love. Don't let this age fool you, I am not as wise as I was when I was your age. There, are no greater fools, than those that think, because they have lived, they understand better, what they have lived."
All murmurs had stopped. This was not what they were there for. But they were going with it.
"I have loved. I am in love. I will always be in love. I have been, since I was, a young man. I found out, what it was, and never tried to describe, or talk about it. Until today. I, hope, you understand."
He walked off the stage. No one knew who he was. No one ever found out.