Friday, 25. August 2006
A Minor Puzzle
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?
(Where are the snows of yesteryear?) – Villon
The causes of mourning when a love is done are, perhaps, the possibilities of the future that will never came to fruition, the certainties of the past that have vanished, and a gaping void that is the present. If that love, however, was entirely based on fictions, what does one mourn other than that continuously closing and opening void in time?
My Daily Notes
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gauravonomics,
August 25, 2006 at 4:45:08 PM EDT
Gauravonomics
Some say that all love is fiction.
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