Love

Today I will tackle, once and for all, one of the time-old tropes of literary endeavour- what is love?

Fine, perhaps that's a little grandiose. Besides, we all know exactly what love is. Or at least we know how to demonstrate it. For example, if you're in love with someone, it's due process to carve their name into your forehead with a safety-pin. Or so I'm lead to believe.

So we've got that part out of the way.

But, how to we show this affection in public? Those who opt for the safety-pin route tend to do it in their own home in front of a mirror in which they ponder the reason why their love note to love note return ratio sits at a stagnant 1000:1.

Normally, in Britain, public displays of affection which last anything longer than a few, tentative seconds are restricted to couples whose love is fresh (and refreshing) and drunk strangers who wouldn't know what name to carve on their forehead anyway.

Further, if you to stumble across a couple whose faces have become one, we tend to avert our gaze. Not that maniacally grinning in their direction would be socially acceptable either, no matter how amusing I'd find it. And during bouts of singledom even the slightest bodily contact between strangers is enough to bring about severe (existential?) nausea.

Living in Spain, however, you are required to shirk off your desire for universal stoicism. Lovers here are intertwined in every public space. Underneath tables on the terrace, legs are woven tightly, entire streets are seemingly hand in hand and couples kiss for five minutes if one of them has to wait outside the shop with the dog.

Here affection is demonstrated with an air of impatience. It's both rushed and prolonged

As if tomorrow they might no longer be in love.