As usual, WFH day ruined my mood and made me restless so I went downstairs to the new Italian restaurant/wine bar that opened a dangerous two doors down. It is too slippery to go anywhere else in footwear that would be appropriate to wear in public-not-the-gym. I needed to read and not be in the same room, and I needed possibility.
I sat next to a woman who asked me about what I was reading, currently The Princess of Cleves. We got into a long discussion about delayed education, the Ivy League, and yoga. She was waiting for her husband who was waiting to hear about a table down the street at the popular, well-regarded Fancy Italian Joint down the street.
Here’s the thing: somehow she mentions, “Everything I have ever done has been for love.” Including her profession, which she also loves. A long conversation follows, of which I will not trouble a loveless Internet and its age with the extended details.. But there was Goethe, and evolutionary necessity, and the Afternoon of a Faun, how love can just end with a whimper and still destroy, and Jules et Jim, and how there are no stories but love stories, especially when you want them the very least. We must have been here for less than 20 minutes.
And it’s Valentine’s Day, my friends.