I love you since you are imperfect,
otherwise, you don't need my love.
Perfections and imperfections were woven together,
and that's you, my love.
We were created together as a whole,
and so you can always find me even among your gaps,
but unluckily I asked myself,
am I only living among these gaps?
Suddenly, I realized that gaps are so special!
So special that they could be seen everywhere and any time!
And those imperfections were where I could infiltrate,
and to penetrate into every bits of your life.
I might not be able to be around:
when you're helping a mother to delivery a baby,
when you're preaching your sermon on the stage,
when you're writing your papers.
But I could be always be there:
when you're off work waiting for you down stair,
when you're scratching your heads for an outline,
when you're finishing and need typing.
I'd still love to be the main character,
here and there, now and then.
But being the sum of gaps of infinitesimal width matters, too!
And only in that way,
I could always find myself to be with you,
here and there, now and then.
(寫於今天早上, 我捉著太太的手, 問她我何時才可以做主角之時)
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