But That Afternoon He Asked Himself, With

A Short Time Later, When The Carpenter Was Taking Measurements For The Coffin, Through The Window They Saw A Light Rain Of Tiny Yellow Flowers Falling. They Fell On The Town All Through The Night In A Silent Storm, And They Covered The Roofs And Blocked The Doors And Smothered The Animals Who Slept Outdoors. So Many Flowers Fell From The Sky That In The Morning The Streets Were Carpeted With A Compact Cushion And They Had To Clear Them Away With Shovels And Rakes So That The Funeral Procession Could Pass By.

I Ask Myself How I Could Give In To This Perpetual Vertigo That I In Fact Provoked And Feared. I Floated Among Erratic Clouds And Talked To Myself In Front Of The Mirror In The Vain Hope Of Confirming Who I Was. My Delirium Was So Great That During A Student Demonstration Complete With Rocks And Bottles, I Had To Make An Enormous Effort Not To Lead It As I Held Up A Sign That Would Sanctify My Truth: I Am Mad With Love.

She Was Lost In Her Longing To Understand.

Although Some Men Who Were Easy With Their Words Said That It Was Worth Sacrificing One’s Life For A Night Of Love With Such An Arousing Woman, The Truth Was That No One Made Any Effort To Do So. Perhaps, Not Only To Attain Her But Also To Conjure Away Her Dangers, All That Was Needed Was A Feeling As Primitive And As Simple As That Of Love, But That Was The Only Thing That Did Not Occur To Anyone.

I Think Just The Opposite Is True: Love Is An Ideology For Eternal Militants, And The More Misfortunes Life Tries To Burden Us With, The More Essential Love Becomes.