I realized tonight that sometimes art doesn't just tell a love story—it lets you feel love itself. Watching Romeo and Juliet, I wasn't in love with another person; I was in love with the music, the movement, the scenery, the costumes, the beauty of it all. And somehow, that felt like the very same language the two characters were speaking to each other.
Maybe that's what great art does: it reminds us that love is not only between two people, but also between the soul and beauty.