I love you,” she said, and together they laughed. Then one day she said, “I hate you,” and they cried. But not together. “What happened to the love that we said would never die?” she asked. “It died,” he said. The first time he saw her she was playing tennis. The last time he saw her she was playing tennis. “Ours was a Love set,” he said, “but we double faulted.” “You always talked a better game than you played,” she said.
Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don’t worry…I’m here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you.
If we listened to our intellect we’d never have a love affair. We’d never have a friendship. We’d never go in business because we’d be cynical: “It’s gonna go wrong.” Or “She’s going to hurt me.” Or, “I’ve had a couple of bad love affairs, so therefore …” Well, that’s nonsense. You’re going to miss life. You’ve got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.
I was born into Bolívar’s labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais’ Great Perhaps.
