Yet this purity reduces the love to one dimension, it destroys the kaleidoscope that is integral to the loss of control. When one accepts the lover, it necessitates a departure from the centrality of the self, and requires a frenzied intake of breath that is forms the essence of the lover. At this point the lover is the outside, the momentous moment of drinking in the other is also an intake of the alien. As stiffe twin compasses are two. The very relevance, the sanctity of the metaphor that is the center is in question, for the centrality is compromised, the center leans over, transgresses its bounds.
Love becomes less than perfect, it is capable of elasticity.
And what they describe on the outside, for to absorb the relevance we must remain on the outside, is the perfect circle. The rejoining that shall absolve all.