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“What is art?” She asked. That is how I know she is, asking questions out of the blue. We’ve been together for over three years now, with still no plan on marrying.

By then the sun was low enough to give the world its orange shade of light, the dry leaves on the ground adds to the autumn feel of the park. The wind blew with quite coolness on it.

Then I remembered it’s already the last week of October.

“Art is love for the world.” I said slowly trying to choose my words carefully.

“Love for the world?” She repeated.

“Yes I think that is art, love,” I continued, this time with quite a confidence in me. “In the sense that we preserve the things that we loved for the future to see. Or sometimes we even preserve ourself telling the story of love.”

She was silent, then after a few steps past the bench she asked me if I would like to sit for awhile. I nod at her. And with our hands inside the pockets of our corduroy sweater, we tried to preserve the scene in our mind. I think.

“How about the war in preserved in canvas? You think they are made out of love?” She asked after quite some time, for how long was the time, I lost track of it.

“Yes” I said. “Behind it is a story of love, of lesson, of pain from loving, so in the end its all about love. Mona Lisa’s smile was preserved because of the love for it, the tragic story of Romeo and Juliet is probably meant to tell about the pain of loving and yet they loved each other, and so a lesson was born from it.”

The wind blew once again making some of the leaves dance. The sky turned more bloody orange than it was earlier. Then she stood up and kissed me. “Will you make an art for me, paint it, or write I don’t care, as long as it will turn out as an art that will tell our story.”

I kissed her then smiled without saying a word, and silently we walked probably both of us were thinking how to immortalize our love.

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