I am a baby being held by an old man. I smell the smoke on his vest. But my grandpa doesn t smoke cigars. I know he loves me. People have told me stories that convey the same feeling, I call it love.
Love can be in some one s eyes.
In books about war, I have seen people holding other people. They have a look of pain and sorrow in their eyes. This look conveys the feeling of love. Even though I have never been to those countries, or heard their language. I know what the are thinking.