Hearts, Spades and Blue Lines

At the risk.

Of all the words of the English language, none are more dooming than "love". More haunting is the knowledge that to keep faith in hope is the fastest catalyst to its' agonizing debacle.

According to an ancient Greek philosopher -I forget which one-, men and women were physically fused together at the back a very long time ago, in an age forgotten by men. Of course, it wasn't always a man and a woman together: the three possible combinations were equal in number. In a spur of anger, the gods separated them, ending their happiness of constant copulation. The separated, dying, inspired the pity of the gods, who realigned the genitalia, which ended the episode. The hypothesis, for an ancient one, is keenly distinctive today.

The man who helped in the creation of the first Oxford English Dictionary by submitting more than ten thousand definitions, an American named Dr. W.C. Minor, surgically removed his own penis.

Harrowing, it is, to have the certitude that the pale reality of love can be empty, bland, uncoloured, fleeting, inconsequential, fragmented, diffused, accelerated or decelerated, unpromising. Yet, nothing is more surprising and hopeful than the promise of uncertainty.