When we are in the flow—when nothing stands between our true essence and our conscious mind—we speak in art. In all its forms, art is the language of the soul.

No matter the medium we choose or the one that inspires us, art is a universal language that transcends barriers. It requires no explanation. It speaks directly to the heart, evoking both the subtlest and most intense human emotions.

At their core, these emotions are infinite expressions of the same fundamental force: love.

Love is revealed in many different shades, yet our language offers us only a single word to define it.

It seems we are, in a way, love illiterate.

Perhaps we need to coin new words to describe the many faces of love—the love for living things, the love for slow things, the love for fragile things. The love for comforting things, the love for scents and aromas, the love for fresh air. The love for touch, for connection. The nostalgic love, the love that never was and never will be. The love that is present and always will be. The love that is lost. The love that is invisible. The love that's painful and makes us crumble. The love that permeates everything that is—oh, perhaps we have a word for this, "God".

This, in many ways, is our greatest tragedy.

If all emotions carry love within them, then perhaps the only moments we are truly alive are those in which we feel love in some way. The more we recognize its beauty and welcome it, the more life gains meaning.

Isn’t the purpose of life to experience love in all its forms?

Looking back, as if on the verge of death, we see it all in a single, fleeting breath. Each emotion, a unique vibration, like a symphony. Every note bringing a different sensation.

It seems, then, that our purpose is to dwell in this space of love, embracing all its forms, and in doing so, to truly live.

And perhaps this is why we turn to art—because art, like love, gives form to the intangible, making the invisible felt and the unspeakable understood.