We live a variety of loves - some make multiple love stories and some singular immortal romances. I'm yet to figure out the difference. I guess, the former is a marked journey (Vicky Christina Barcelona, Gone with the wind) and the latter lends itself to a historical significance or a fictional value (Love letters/ Bridges of Madison County).
Torch said something that plucked at my soul - "a Romance is always complete within itself, where the end is not held against the lovers. It is a wonderful portrait, where the warmth foils the complex barters within. Romances in general do not evoke envy, they are above all ill-feeling; it's a higher more mature kind of love. It is expected to out-live its lovers, and the element that wins in it is the fatality of the love, and the temporality of the love.A romance is lived in a speed jet, and re-lived for lives later. It’s like your tailbone, you do not need it anymore, but its presence reminds you of a time when you were someone else.
Torch said something that plucked at my soul - "a Romance is always complete within itself, where the end is not held against the lovers. It is a wonderful portrait, where the warmth foils the complex barters within. Romances in general do not evoke envy, they are above all ill-feeling; it's a higher more mature kind of love. It is expected to out-live its lovers, and the element that wins in it is the fatality of the love, and the temporality of the love.A romance is lived in a speed jet, and re-lived for lives later. It’s like your tailbone, you do not need it anymore, but its presence reminds you of a time when you were someone else.
The latter is a different ball game - A love story is wonderful when it is, say, a puppy -love, or a sexual-fight, or pure tragedy, unfulfilled and crazed with careless passion. Although, the folly is magnified, the horror of it - glorified, the distance elongated, the fate is marked, and marked in RED. Also, they have the ability to wilt, unlike romances.
Only unstable, can–not-live-with, open ended relationships make for great love stories – where the journey is often more violent. The beauty, is in its abruptness, there is something bitter about it, and something very intoxicating. Like sucking on a grape meant for making wine and not eating. Nonetheless, you know the fact, and you acknowledge it, and when you do - the story ends."
