Love is everywhere. It's becoming worst than God. Most movies, songs, books and even blogs have one main theme : love. So everyone gives their opinion, and in the end it becomes more of a commercial idea. You heard those things a million times, and only originality sells. But originality and everyday life are hardly ever synchronized.
The love that sells, it's that for which you'd climb mountains so as to throw yourself from its vetriginous cliffs. It's passional, carnal love, with some twenty seconds scenes in blockbusters. It's a love which defies taboos, the great adventure.
In the long run, love only matters to you if it's epic. You'd like reality to articulate around you so that it corresponded to a sentimental odyssey. But you don't need to look for it in other forms, love is inside you. It won't come from elsewhere, and if you condition it to be triggered only in some configurations, is it surprising if it doesn't express fully ? Is it surprising if this very love makes you unhappy ?
The love that sells, it's that for which you'd climb mountains so as to throw yourself from its vetriginous cliffs. It's passional, carnal love, with some twenty seconds scenes in blockbusters. It's a love which defies taboos, the great adventure.
In the long run, love only matters to you if it's epic. You'd like reality to articulate around you so that it corresponded to a sentimental odyssey. But you don't need to look for it in other forms, love is inside you. It won't come from elsewhere, and if you condition it to be triggered only in some configurations, is it surprising if it doesn't express fully ? Is it surprising if this very love makes you unhappy ?
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