Maurizio Fusillo

31.05.2019 - 19.6.2019

Love is a gamble

Love is a gamble that no one ever thinks they may lose. As in a poker game, people keeps betting feelings, efforts, and money on their cards with no clues on what will happen once they’ll turn their cards.
No one ever thinks about the end. It is easy, while in love, to “take refuge in the ‘forever’ – in the hypocrisy of ‘never'” – as the italian songwriter Fabrizio de André wrote in one of his songs.
We all know people who lost their bet. Actually, the greatest share of us has their own fair share of lost bets on their shoulders. Still, for every new beginning we keep deceiving ourselves thinking that this time it will be different and it will be fine.
“I know that my tender feebleness will make us enemy ships, but my heart knows that enemy ships leave together to fish for tendress”, as Jacques Brel sung.
The truth is that love – any love – may end. Actually, it ends more often than not.
In an epoch where the constraints of social pressure to adequate to stricter moral rules are loosening at an ever increasing rate, the hedonistic research of personal happiness (“The expectation of receiving instant gratification in daily life and that this gratification constitutes the normative parameter of existence”, as Denys Arcand puts it in his ‘The decline of the American empire’, probably the most realistic movie about love) jeopardize the possibility to have long-lasting relationships, as we lose our ability to compromise.
And what will happen to all those new loves we can see blooming around us? What a love leaves behind when it disappears? Rage, ruins, dispair, and then only memories, confused memories, that we can not even locate in space or time. Faces mixes up, and names fade. Only a confused pile of garbage stays in that corner of our mind where we avoid to look into – skeletons in the closet of our heart.
And there we are again, as soon as someone crosses our path, with our illusion that it will be different this time.
31.05.2019
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19.6.2019