Love is like this beautiful rose you see in the glass display at a florist’s place. You like it instantly and in a spur of the moment purchasing decision, buy it. You take it to your home and place it in a prominent location where everyone can see it and admire it. A few days later it withers, shrivels and ultimately dies. It is then moved either to a trash can or stored between the pages of some old thick old moth infested book. And that old place left vacant by the rose is either left abandoned or replaced by a new object of interest and a fleeting patronage.