A Modern Florence Love Story- Part I
(Ah, Italia...amore! Here, every 8.2 seconds a new love is formed second only to the time (every 4.5 seconds) that a tourist is overcharged.)
Give me all the clichés and banalities of love, he thought. Let them ring true despite all our wishes for something more.
She muttered, “I love you.” but in a language different than his own. “What did you say?” he asked in the same breathless tone even though he was quite sure what she said based on the context. He wanted to hear it again. We all want to hear it again. For the first time over and over. In any language.
She repeated, “I love you” but this time in his language, thick with accent. She wanted him to know. We all want the other one to really know. And thus the story begins. Always with those three excitable words and all the associated clichés and banalities to follow.
Shall we look at some of them? First, “one person will always love more than the other.” What does this mean? Lying in that impossibly small bed in a tiny bedroom, in the heat of a Florence summer, sweating and pressed together, moist from love making, tears. Could it be possible to determine who will be the one who will love more at that very moment?
The corollary to this cliché is that "the one who loves more will be the one to get hurt". In that split second where the first “I love you” is exchanged it hardly seems possible. Yet, from that point the divide has already begun and one person or both recognizes it. This is where the fear begins. This is where the guilt begins.
After she repeated, “I love you” in his language he was silent giving the proper respectful pause for what the moment required and repeated, “I love you” then adding “too”. At this moment he felt his first fear. At this moment she felt her first guilt. The divide had begun. The cliché had come to pass.
No other words were spoken for a while. They made love again. Soaking wet, salty, cooled by an intermittent breeze, so close together. They pushed into each other as deep as they could. Trying to impress the sentiment of those words as if they could physically stamp them onto the skin of the other. Release, then stillness.
So let’s go back to the significance of the statement “one person will always love more than the other”. Why is this so important? Because it gives power perhaps? Isn’t that human nature, subjugation? Even in love? Prior to the utterance of that infamous phase extolling love it doesn’t really matter who has the upper hand does it? Without feelings or love, emotional power loses its value. Only a few of us aspire to rule the world, most of us only want to be secure in the control of a few. Our entitlement. Our partner. Our love. The possessive pronoun of ownership, “My”.
They did not meet under the most normal of circumstances. This is not unusual as there are many fateful stories of love that liked to be retold as if they were a fairy tale, making that story somehow more special than the rest. What is Cinderella and her glass slipper but a clumsy girl if the Prince never comes to reclaim her?
These two lovers fairy tale began in an exotic city that most tourists flock to once in their lives to few the amazing gilded art, architecture and history that was the birthplace of the Western European Renaissance. These two were here for a different reason. They were fleeing. She, a ten-year relationship gone sour. She had been the “one who loved too much” and she was running from the fear and pain.
He had lost his father to suicide and left a distrustful, indifferent 2-year relationship that gave him no other choice in the end. He too had been the “one who loved too much”. He was running from fear and pain.
In this way they were untied in this fairy tale in the Birthplace of the Renaissance. The fearful Prince had found the cowering Cinderella and placed her fragile glass slipper back on her delicate foot so she could again walk forward. They were reborn, crying, struggling from the womb, eyes blurred in this new world. Free to try and love and start the cycle all over again.
Even fairy tales become logical when you really think about them.
To be continued.........
(In the always crystal clear rear view mirror of hindsight, the shinny, smiley images always have a bit of tarnish around the edges.)
Give me all the clichés and banalities of love, he thought. Let them ring true despite all our wishes for something more.
She muttered, “I love you.” but in a language different than his own. “What did you say?” he asked in the same breathless tone even though he was quite sure what she said based on the context. He wanted to hear it again. We all want to hear it again. For the first time over and over. In any language.
She repeated, “I love you” but this time in his language, thick with accent. She wanted him to know. We all want the other one to really know. And thus the story begins. Always with those three excitable words and all the associated clichés and banalities to follow.
Shall we look at some of them? First, “one person will always love more than the other.” What does this mean? Lying in that impossibly small bed in a tiny bedroom, in the heat of a Florence summer, sweating and pressed together, moist from love making, tears. Could it be possible to determine who will be the one who will love more at that very moment?
The corollary to this cliché is that "the one who loves more will be the one to get hurt". In that split second where the first “I love you” is exchanged it hardly seems possible. Yet, from that point the divide has already begun and one person or both recognizes it. This is where the fear begins. This is where the guilt begins.
After she repeated, “I love you” in his language he was silent giving the proper respectful pause for what the moment required and repeated, “I love you” then adding “too”. At this moment he felt his first fear. At this moment she felt her first guilt. The divide had begun. The cliché had come to pass.
No other words were spoken for a while. They made love again. Soaking wet, salty, cooled by an intermittent breeze, so close together. They pushed into each other as deep as they could. Trying to impress the sentiment of those words as if they could physically stamp them onto the skin of the other. Release, then stillness.
So let’s go back to the significance of the statement “one person will always love more than the other”. Why is this so important? Because it gives power perhaps? Isn’t that human nature, subjugation? Even in love? Prior to the utterance of that infamous phase extolling love it doesn’t really matter who has the upper hand does it? Without feelings or love, emotional power loses its value. Only a few of us aspire to rule the world, most of us only want to be secure in the control of a few. Our entitlement. Our partner. Our love. The possessive pronoun of ownership, “My”.
They did not meet under the most normal of circumstances. This is not unusual as there are many fateful stories of love that liked to be retold as if they were a fairy tale, making that story somehow more special than the rest. What is Cinderella and her glass slipper but a clumsy girl if the Prince never comes to reclaim her?
These two lovers fairy tale began in an exotic city that most tourists flock to once in their lives to few the amazing gilded art, architecture and history that was the birthplace of the Western European Renaissance. These two were here for a different reason. They were fleeing. She, a ten-year relationship gone sour. She had been the “one who loved too much” and she was running from the fear and pain.
He had lost his father to suicide and left a distrustful, indifferent 2-year relationship that gave him no other choice in the end. He too had been the “one who loved too much”. He was running from fear and pain.
In this way they were untied in this fairy tale in the Birthplace of the Renaissance. The fearful Prince had found the cowering Cinderella and placed her fragile glass slipper back on her delicate foot so she could again walk forward. They were reborn, crying, struggling from the womb, eyes blurred in this new world. Free to try and love and start the cycle all over again.
Even fairy tales become logical when you really think about them.
To be continued.........
(In the always crystal clear rear view mirror of hindsight, the shinny, smiley images always have a bit of tarnish around the edges.)
posted by EuroSnob | 2:26 PM
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