Tears

A friend of mine called me this morning to tell me that she had just been proposed to in Vienna. He had planned the whole trip months in advance. He had asked her hand in marriage from her father. And then he had whisked her away to Austria.

Their hotel room with a view of the Imperial Palace. Their horse and carriage ride moonlit, across a fountainned square. His disembarkment a prelude to a empassioned proposal.

I'm really not making this up - I was listening to her gushing on the phone. They had recently picked out a house together, stripped the walls, uprooted the carpets and completely transformed it together. They hand picked everything new - the tones, the hues, the sateens, the sculpture, the warmth and the breeze. I suddenly felt the radiance of the sun literally shining through the window I was standing next to - such a moment of bliss and purity that I felt no pain at all - I was floating for hours (I should have been in pain from the minor wisdom surgery that has been agony this week).

Maybe it's because my parents have never broken up that I have confidence in the institution and the eternity.

This is why I can't call love a cunt.



(Image sourced from google images).