Friday, November 24, 2006

Ami de mon amie, L' (1987)

Why does it have to end or not end? Can't it be what it is? But love does that. It either ends or doesn't end. It cannot sit still. It impatiently and constantly demands an evaluation of what it is and where it is going. It's self-conscious to the point of self-destruction. Can't it dissolve all these worries? Ah, boyfriends and girlfriends -- when will they ever learn?

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