This is my rebellion against a world often unprepared for so much; This is my subversion, my daring, my raised fist. This is my desire for utopia and I repudiate those resignations that seek to dismantle the truth that is love with a light and superficial step. The love exist. But love is not a conquest, a colonization; Even in the failure of the unrequited, love lives and lives like an iceberg of fire, dragged through the course of life, sorrowing or full of happiness, but a pilgrim in the end that does not pay attention to efficient results. Love does not claim success, condition, or fortune. Love is gambling for the other, with or without luck, but gambling everything for everything, without knowing if there will be room for one in that land. Because everything that burns and lasts is not measured with numbers, nor statistics, nor science, nor recipes; because everything that measures or serves to measure cannot measure love; because love is a victory after the battle but before the war; and as a victory it has no measure, war, or statutes. There is no law, no manuals to find, no books that explain it simply. Who has the right, who has the authority to say then how and when, and why and for how much ... Love is irrational but not crazy, it is a vibration from the depth of life that struggles for itself to be, it is what it embraces us and embraces us with passion from a place without war but full of will and power. That will is passion; that passion, my daring; that boldness moves me forward and, as I advance, I feel power, life, being in me. That is love for me.