I love you... Words so familiar, so ambiguous floating in the air. They've got no more substance than a fugitive light that blazes in front of the eyes and leaves a trace that slowly disappears.
What are the motivations behind these words? Would it be desire, abandonment, devotion, selfishness? How to know without defining what love is, or perhaps it woud be wiser not to define it at all:
"Keep away from the authority who tells you what love is and what it is not. No authority knows; and he who knows cannot tell". Jiddu Krishnamurti.
I have been always fascinated by love that seems unreal or impossible, love that survives in the absence of the beloved. Or love that remains chaste, as if once consummated it would estrange the lovers. Love that lives in the imagination, frustrating any real experience, as it remains unreachable: an everlasting illusion...
