Friday, 10 July 2009

I told a friend of mine about P. I didn't want to at first, but then we got quite drunk together and I couldn't resist.
He asked me if I fancy P. This term, "fancy" seemed so inappropriate and lame to me that I almost got angry.
I mean, how could I reduce the mixture of feelings I have for P. as "fancy"?
There's so much more to it, and yet, it's so hard to explain. I wish I was a great poet or a composer sometimes.
It's like if he had asked me if I like Rimbaud ( my favourite poet) or Beethoven...I mean, how could I say I "like" them? It's such a complex way of loving someone.

Since I couldn't answer my friend and I was getting angry, I changed subject.
He didn't even notice, I think.

1 comment:

  1. Love, one of the most difficult things to describe. There are so many kinds and so many different ways to show them. I couldn't force myself to explain it if I was held at gunpoint.

    Just one thing though, you don't have to be a great poet or composer to love another and that's the most important bit of it all.