Love, my dear, is a stage.
And most of us walk on it in costumes we never chose — reciting lines we never rehearsed.

This piece? It isn’t here to airbrush halos on foreheads or chase shadows into confessionals.
It’s here to peek — tastefully — at what it really means to be human: tender, torn, tempted… alive.

Before you clutch your pearls or adjust your tie, hear me out:
This is not a sermon, nor a scandal sheet.
It is a mirror — polished, a little foggy in places, but honest enough to make you blush.

You, with the tangled sheets and complicated heart.
You, who smiles by day and dreams in color at night.
You weren’t meant to live behind stained glass or in cages of guilt.
You were meant to feel, to ache, to wonder — and yes, to love (messily, sometimes).

In this edition, we meet Cynthia, a marketing maven who told me over rosé:
"I love my boyfriend. And I love being adored by strangers. It keeps my flame alive."
Her laugh was soft. Her honesty sharper than wine.

Then there’s Michael, married, Bible-quoting, who whispers about his “divine duality” with a grin.
He calls it a balancing act. I call it poetry in motion… or hypocrisy in gold.

According to Astra Planet’s recent survey:
🔹 64% admitted to emotional entanglements outside their relationships.
🔹 39% confessed to… extracurricular activities of a more physical nature.

So yes — saints can stumble, and sinners can sing hymns.
Perhaps what matters is what we learn along the way, and how honest we dare to be with ourselves.

So, breathe. Straighten your halo — or tilt it playfully.
And step into the conversation:

Because love is never just black & white — it’s a little rouge, a little gold, and very much alive.

By Knight Fredel

Source: Astra Planet Magazine