It is at first sight unbelievable that some people are willing to die for love. Recently, I heard the story of two young guys that killed themselves because each of them, being in love for a (different) girl, the girl didn’t not respond with the same love. As life develops in a match point, and possibly nothing occurs by coincidence, this evening the media gave the story of another guy (an artist) that was returning home late at night and his wife, suspecting of an extra-marital affair, first discussed violently with the husband, then she went looking for her mother and a few more “friends”. They all together killed the poor artist, broken their bones. Yes, this fellow, too, died for love…

As I said, I don’t understand why people die for love. There are in this world absolutely loving human beings, a lot of women ready to be loved, a reasonable fraction of them gorgeous enough to materialize in ourselves the god Priapus. Of course, I am not free of this sin. A long, long time ago, I almost failed to die for love. She was an Arabian princess. Well, at least, she looked like to me.

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