Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination.

Attraction supplies the blank cloth and very little else. Everything that makes a particular person feel singular is stitched on afterwards by you: the meanings you give their habits, the story you tell about how you met, the future you have already half-lived in your head. That is not a debunking, because the embroidery is where the love actually lives.

It does mean being honest about which parts you added. When somebody disappoints you, check whether they broke a promise or merely failed to match a pattern you sewed on without telling them. And when things are good, keep stitching, because nobody stays vivid by nature alone.