Anyone who thought they knew love and passion obviously doesn't know Patti Smith. Her memoir, Just Kids, has been out for a while now, but I am just getting around to reading it. I'm about half way through the book and as I read each page I find something new to inspire and amaze me. Her love with Robert Mapplethorpe is absolutely beautiful. I've always know the story, but I am just now knowing the true connection they had. I get this a lot when I read books about the 60s and 70s. For some reason these true tales are just so much deeper than stories now. These people had a genuine love that now seldomly exists. People then saw others for who they truly were, there was often little judgement and lots of acceptance. What happened to that love?