Sara-Jayne Makwala King recalls meeting the love of her life in rehab; she self-harming and depressed, and he a heroin addict.
There’s a type of love – the type I fell into with Enver – that doesn’t have the decency to announce itself. It happens upon you, almost violently, without the whiff of prospect or a shred of embarrassment. It is unapologetic and determined. It is live, sentient. It is love as an organism. It is addictive. It is love as addiction.