Here is what we know about love: it is like hippopottamuses in the dirty river. Or like their skulls. It is on occasion like their feet stamping in the mud below. When I was 23, I sucked mud down there, felt my own skull crack. The bottom of the river with fifty horny angry delirious hippopottamuses above me said home, and I believed. You should too. You should take a deep breath, like when you were twelve and at your friend's above-ground pool and going to go under for the quarter her dad threw in just to see your butt flash above the water for a second. You should take that deep breath, hold your nose, and dive. Thrash around, fight your way down down down. And when you find that quarter, when you've got someone standing on your head and you're sucking fire, just stay there. Stay there. That's love.