Love Is ...

A recent article intrigued me. It is about a book, Exquisite Corpse, by Australian author Marija Peričić. It’s an account based on true events (but set in a different country) telling of the main character, a man, who idolises a beautiful but fatally ill woman in the 1930s.

Love is … so many different things to people. But at that time, it resulted in a feeling of loss and devastation as the man’s object of his intense emotions succumbed to death. Not accepting this fate, he steals her body from the coffin, takes her home, embalms her (using domestic products) and lives with her (body), for a few years, treating her as if she were alive.

Me and my delightful granddaughter who is fifteen months old.

Love is … a strange and macabre tale on this occasion, although many women—as he was found out and spent time in prison—were enthralled by what they interpreted as a romance of the highest order.

Love is … different things to everyone and yet it is what we all search for, if we are truthful.

Love is … something we can call our own; hold it close and feel its uniqueness as it wraps us in its buzzing warmth. Just like the instinctual love I feel for my gorgeous granddaughter (image).

Yet, this feeling can become obsessive and sadly, we hear daily of how people mistreat their partners... they now regard them as possessions.

As you can tell, I have been in a ponderous frame of mind. Love is … a theme that can provide much material for reflection. I hope that as the festive season begins to unfold, all of you are blessed with the receiving and giving of a selfless and generous love.

Love is … also unexpected and the extract below is from Goodbye to Italia when my father proposed to my mother after WW2. #love #Italy #WW2

One misty morning, they haven’t been at work long, when Eugenio calls Iucci to go with him into the back storage room. As they keep the stock and financial books in that area, Iucci assumes that Eugenio wants to discuss finances. Iucci looks questioningly at Eugenio when he draws her to one side. She is then dumbfounded when he goes down on one knee in front of her. ‘Iucci, voglio farti vedere qualcosa. Iucci, I want to show you something,’ and putting a hand in his jacket pocket, Eugenio brings out a square, black, velvet box. As he opens the box, a sparkling, translucent stone twinkles up at her against a dark blue, velvet background. ‘I love you and I want to marry you. This diamond is from South Africa when I was a POW. I have had it cut so that it catches the light and sparkles from every angle. And now … now it can be made into a ring for you—the woman that I love and with whom I want to spend the rest of my life.’

Iucci realises that she has brought her hand up to her throat. She stares at the diamond as it glitters provocatively. Looking at the face of the man that she loves, his pale green eyes smile up at her. His dark brown hair is brushed back from his forehead in the rakish style of the day and he looks so handsome that her breath catches in her throat.

Just as she is about to speak, a noise behind Eugenio causes both of them to look round. Il Capostazione, the station master, has walked into the room and is gawking at the sight of Eugenio down on one knee. In a trice, Eugenio stands up and slips the black box back into his pocket. Leaning forward, he pretends that he had been stooping down to rifle through some books behind Iucci. Il Capostazione mumbles some incoherent words and makes a quick exit. Eugenio and Iucci grin at each other.