So whatever I learned about love, I learned by myself. From glances on the tram. From songs coming out of cheap speakers in bars. From my mother, who, even while my father had managed to turn the house into a place where everyone walked carefully, still put a second plate on the table for him without saying a word. Back then I saw it and thought that was greatness. Later I understood it might also have been habit, fear, role, exhaustion. But when you are young, you confuse everything and call it faith.