There's No Remedy

Free access to culture is super cool.

Yesterday, since I was already at the public library, I browsed through their DVD collection.
There I found a gem of a movie titled: “Camila.” The synopsis of this Argentine production evolves around the illicit love affair between a high society young woman, and the local priest set in 1847 Buenos Aires.
They valiantly tried to fight their profound love, while their eyes devoured each other. The scene of their 1st kiss evokes such longing - veritably tangible - making the surrender to the forbidden kiss – absolutely exquisite - and ultimately, so much sweeter.
This is a beautiful movie, even if the final outcome is heartbreaking. The score of this film still haunts me; this melody plays on the strings of the heart. Just listening to it, will bring tears to my eyes, evoking the all-consuming passion, a love so strong as to be emblematized in these words: “I die of love.”

When one is denied the object of his or her affection, can that be cause to develop dormant, stalker-type tendencies? Does “absence make the heart grow fonder?” That maybe a cliche, yet I have to agree with it somewhat.
I imagine that if I worked at the counter of the dry cleaner where the object of my affection dropped his clothes to be cleaned, I’d sniff his scent imbued on his shirts, passionately embracing these to my breasts.
If I was a waitress, and he came to drink coffee and smoke a cigarette on the outside tables, I’d save the cigarette butt and wrap my lips around it, as well as drink off his coffee cup, the leftover coffee. Softly putting my lips where his had been.
If I was a hairdresser, and he came to get a hair cut, I’d wear a push-up bra, and a low cut top (in your face cleavage). I’d also sneak a soft caress to his cheek - almost imperceptible. Just being near him, would make me dizzy with desire, all the while I’d drink him in with my eyes.
Think next time, I will check out an educational DVD….sigh.