I know how much it hurts my love. I know, I know. This earthquake of a heartbreak, leaving you the only and most lonely at this destination of your seismic devastation. Wise words of those who have come before you are dumb to every burning mote of destruction that has made up this agony inside you. ‘You have not been here before’ We have; and one day you will reflect upon these times and the pain will have crumbled and blown away. You will, instead, be left, in your reconstructed life, with only the sweet memories you made up until the very sudden end. And you will write yourself a song or story or poem, brightly lit by nostalgia and dedicate it to your lost landscape. You will learn that sentiment for the worst of times is ensured, given enough distance.