One really beautiful part of Lacan that I've probably misread/heard/learned was the discussion of enjoyment and limits. To love someone is not to understand them, or know them at all really: it's to love the process of unfolding and approaching the limits of ourselves as subjects with perceptions, languages, and material existences that bind us in some way. I will never in my life see the night sky through the eyes of others, nor will I understand their thoughts in their true intent or velocity, but if I were to sit for a lifetime I'd get closer than anyone else ever would.

One can find beauty, exploration and wonder in a frontier of many kinds. Love is revolutionary act that will take you further than any of the colonialists fuckers made it.