This is article– or possible series of articles – is the result of months of Guantanamo-style interrogations to friends and acquaintances who are or have been in a relationship (or the millennial equivalent of a relationship - whatever that is). That’s where I know most of this stuff from - I get the rest from Joni Mitchell songs and random Caribbean poets. These dialogues triggered a series of reflections on love, longing, loss and all that mushy mumbo jumbo. I observe and listen and ask questions. In particular, there is a question that no one has been able to answer - one that I often don’t have the courage to ask. How fucking mental do you have to be let yourself fall for someone? Unless you intend to hurt yourself… would you jump off a plane without a parachute? Would you French kiss someone with Ebola? Would you put your hand on an open flame? The cue is in the word. Fall. The whole concept of falling automatically implies an impact, a