Loveless

What of the plight of he or she who can’t return the love of a worthy paramour much though he or she wants to, much though he or she acknowledges that it’s much more than deserved?

I wonder if Paris suffers from this paradox, the City, not the strange prince who caused so much trouble so many years ago, although I wonder if Hellen experienced the dilemma. I wonder why I can’t seem to help brooding over it this morning, not knowing whether as victim or victimizer, or even which is which?

Paris the city, so cold to some, mainly Americans, but so rich in the weave of the myriad emotions it elicits from others, many of them Americans as well. Americans, a very strange breed and a breed not at all. The paradox, as all paradoxes, strange to ponder.

I wonder what colors are best for painting the dilemma facing those that cannot love when, objectively, perhaps they should; but then, the word “objective” may be anathema to the concept of love. And just what is love anyway?

Definitely a misused term, unavoidably so in English. It’s used to describe just too many disparate emotions and phenomena. Even the Greeks were too limited in the linguistic variants needed to isolate it in a manner that makes sense. It’s a family of concepts with no respect for the temporal, or the quantitative or the qualitative or most especially, the comparative.

But, …

What of the plight of he or she who can’t return the love of a worthy paramour much though he or she wants to, much though he or she acknowledges that it’s much more than deserved?
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