there is and there isn't

Reading "del amor y otros demonios" a strange sensation came to me...Love is like a playful puppy. It comes closer and when you are about to grab it, it runs and you are not able to catch it.

Its like a dream, a nice dream when you are about to get something you really really want and then you wake up, you still have the drowsy sensation that you actually got it...but you didn't and you remain in bed trying to get back to the dream or remembering how were those blissful seconds you had "it"

Its like the smell that drove you crazy when you were a child and few years later you recognize it like a light breeze and you try to find where does it come from or maybe you try to smell it again but there is no longer trace of it and you just got past feelings and sensations.

I don't remember the exact part of the book that brought me that sensation, was about the end and is how love is behaving in my life.