What I do is praise of pure love. It seems to me that nobody is loveness truth. Nobody wants to live an impossible love. Nobody accepts love without a reason. Today people fall in love as a matter of practice. Because it gives way. Why are colleagues and are there on the doorstep. Why do well and not get bored too. Because it makes sense. Because it is cheaper, because the house. Because the bed. Because of underwear and pants and laundry bills.
Nowadays people do pre-nuptial agreements, discuss everything beforehand, make plans and come to the slightest little shit soon "dialogue." Love is now able to be combined. The lovers become partners.Meet themselves, discuss problems, make decisions. Love became a variant psycho-socio-bio-eco-business. The passion that was to be unreasonable, it is as far as possible. Love has become a practical issue. The result is that people, instead of falling in love for real, are "virtually" in love.
I want to sing the praises of pure love, blind love, stupid, love sick, the only true love there, I'm sick of talking, tired of understandings, sick of convenience of service.
I never saw boyfriends so brutalized, so cowardly and so indulgent as they are today. Incapable of a sweeping gesture, taking a risk, a dash of daring, gang of "okay, okay", makers of pipes, made of commitment, goofy , killers of romance, romanticism. Nobody falls in love? Nobody accepts the pure passion, the endless longing, sadness, imbalance, fear, cost, love, disease that is like a cancer eating our hearts and we sing in the chest at the same time?
Love is one thing, life is another. Love is not to be a little help. Not for relief, rest, break, pat on the back, the pause that refreshes, the emergency department of the tortuous road of life, our "gives there a knack sentimental." I hate this modern mania for soups and rest. I hate the new happy wedded. Wherever one looks, one sees no longer novel, screaming, crazy, stab, hugs, flowers. Love closed the shop. Was pierced to the staff of slippers and serenity. Love is love.It is this beauty. It is this danger. Our love is not for us to understand, not to help us, not to make us happy. Both can and can not. Whatever. It is a matter of chance.
Our love is to love us, to suddenly take us to heaven, in time to catch a bit of hell opened. Love is one thing, life is another. Life sometimes kills love. A "little life" is a living killer. Pure love is not a means, not an end, not a principle, not a destination. Pure love is a condition. Has much to do with the life of each one like the weather. Love does not realize. Not to realize. Love is a state of one who feels. Love is our soul. It is our soul to untie. The untie the chase than not know, do not pick up, not large, does not understand.
Love is true. That is why the illusion is necessary. The illusion is pretty, it does not matter.Who lie and invent and dream what you want. Love is one thing, life is another. Reality can kill, love is more beautiful than life. Life fuck. In a moment, a look, picks up his heart forever. If someone loves you. By far, however difficult, however desperately. The heart is what keeps us out of hand. And during the day and throughout life, when there is not one you love, that she is not with us - is our love, the love that you have. Not to realize. A sign of pure love does not understand, love and do not have, and do not want to keep hope, hurt without being hurt, live alone, sad, but most of those who live together happily. You can not give up. One can not resist. Life is one thing, love is another. Life lasts a lifetime, love does.
Only a world of love can last a lifetime. And worth it too.
Miguel Esteves Cardoso
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