The fabric of reality is made of sex, and love is a measure of time.

Love can be found in every relation even in the most ugly and hateful, and sex can be as minute as the collision of atoms in the air.

In my world, the concepts of love and sex are completely unspooled. Far removed from the conventional definitions, they become encapsulations, where love and sex are evidenced by patterns. These patterns exist everywhere, and thus can be extracted from just about anything. It is important to note that Love isn't inherently good, and neither is it constrained by human emotions. It is something of nature, here before "we" were ever a thing.

Love is existence. Existence, or the act of being is derived from movement along a reference point, aided by Time. It is this relation between an other that posits being. Thus, everything is sex. Existence is marked by bodies, evidenced by the push we feel as creatures in a space. Our movement and will to live regardless of empirical reason is a manifestation of the Infinity—something we cannot comprehend that finds us regardless. Sex is the testament to the greatness that cannot be contained.