To love. It’s one of those things that I naturally know, probably because of human roots. They say to be human is to love, to feel, to love, and to love because, by loving, that’s how life shows you its beauty. Loving is inevitable in life. Every day, you wake up to the first sip of your coffee that melts your heart, and the toast you made that you didn’t expect to taste so good. To read a book that makes you feel warm inside, to eat the soup that evokes nostalgia, to remember the comfort of waves crashing onto the shore, and the fuzzy feeling of talking with someone after a long, tiring day while accompanied by the patter of rain. Or simply walking past the window to see the stars when the sky is clear enough. To remember there is so much to see and to feel. We will never run out of things to love that make us grateful to exist and live another day despite everything. To live is to love.

Although, in human interactions, the idea of being loved is just as lovely. Of course I have always wanted to be loved, too. To know that someone loves me, not just my best parts but the messy and unpolished sides too, someone who stays just like Bruno Major’s songs. But there is something so sweet, so alive about loving until it mirrors loving yourself; to love is to understand, and to love is to endure. Tell me the little things that make you feel loved. Tell me about your love language because I would not mind learning about you for a lifetime. I want to make it clear, not just in the big moments but in the small, everyday ones as well. By learning to love you, I have learned to love myself through it.

Something like that ... Honestly, this question is something that I can think about with ease but find hard to truly convey in words. I know this answer isn’t much, but it’s a flood of relief to be able to conjure what’s inside my mind after staring at a screen for hours. Thank you for the question, Pretty Lily. ‹3

There is a lump in my throat and a banging in my ears when I read this question. Sometimes I can see myself as more of a retrospective person than a future-oriented one. I like looking back, watching the pages turn, and finding comfort in the known. To be honest, if I could pick one of those oceans of warmth inside my mind and keep them on tape, I would mention all the memories I spent with my grandparents. I treasure all the little moments with them—the time when my grandparents and I spent together in their small home. It’s a kind of comfort that nips at the skin and lingers right down to the bone.

I remember back then, whenever we used to visit them, my grandmother would eagerly wait for us and announce to everyone that we were coming. She would welcome us with so much merriment and a beautiful smile on her face. We would sit in the living room while my parents caught up on life, and grandma and mom would share food recipes to experience the unparalleled comfort found in hearty meals that could warm us right down to our toes. And I would be there, in my favorite place—grandpa’s embrace. I would sit on his knee as a young child while he complained about me being heavy and loud. I have loved talking ever since I was a kid, chattering like a broken record, which would make him giggle in response.

Grandpa was dignified and quiet. I never heard a loud or harsh word from his mouth, but, almost as if on purpose, he loved to hear me talk. On the other hand, my grandmother was the biggest talker, yet very soft-spoken. I loved their dynamic. They loved each other but always bickered. I still remember how my grandma would always compliment me for being the smartest and prettiest in the room while I told her about school. She loved me so much. She never asked any favors from me, and she was the one from whom I learned what love is. When you love somebody purely, you just want to see them happy. I could write a book on how much she loved me and all the things she did for me. Both she and my grandpa were people I could always rely on. They had forever to listen to my ramblings, my pleas, and my whatnots.

I hold all those memories close to me on sleepless nights, through long journeys, and during turbulence. If I had the chance to put them on tape, I would do it in a heartbeat, wrap it with a ribbon, and engrave their warmth in my chest. I miss them even more after answering this question. I realize that I’m so bad at goodbyes and processing the absence of someone I love. Grief is a difficult emotion to deal with, isn’t it? But thank you for the question, sweet Ruru. 🤍

For something obvious to mention, I would honorably say everything written by Mary Oliver, but one of them is, “If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate,” from Swan: Poems and Prose Poems and, “Let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

Reading her words always makes me feel happy and affectionate. Her works are so brain-chemistry-altering because she shows you that love is everywhere. There are so many simple things in life that can make you realize how beautiful life still is, despite the misery and everything in between. Crumbs of human connection and nature—or yourself. The relationship with yourself, in how you still manage to wake up every day and survive this far! As she said, it’s a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.

Another heartwarming question! It’s always interesting whenever someone asks me about my love languages. I think, I feel loved when someone can express their feelings to me through affectionate gestures—physical touch is what they call it, perhaps. But when it comes to expressing my love for others, I might fall into the category of Words of Affirmation and sharing food as a love language.

What I’m trying to say here is I would never mind splitting my apple in half for someone I cherish. I would slip a tangerine slice into their mouth if they were too tired to do so themselves. I would remind my loved ones to eat and cook for them, even. I would feed them my mother’s cooking (because my mother is the best cook). I would cut up mangoes into cubes for them. I would constantly ask, “Have you eaten yet?” because to eat is to survive. I love you, and I want you to eat well. Let’s sit together and eat with me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve already eaten. I will eat again if it means sharing the meal with you and making you feel loved.

I love consuming media that leaves me with a fluttering feeling and gives my heart too many blows of warmth and solace. Romance will always be my pick, especially if it includes a slice-of-life element. I love The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, my all-time favorite. I would also honorably mention Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. Sometimes, I believe I could write an entire book on the reasons why this one is my pick—although not necessarily a nice and easy-to-comprehend review. But if I were to sum it up succinctly, as someone who loves to cling to her emotions, both joy and pain, I feel this book does an excellent job of evoking your senses. There are four sections in this book, and three of them have a bittersweet quality with both warmth and sadness. I found them magically wonderful and emotional, something that could bring a sense of comfort even amidst the melancholy that came alongside them.