A person is nothing but his image
A person is nothing but his image. Philosophers can tell us that it doesn't matter what the world thinks of us, that nothing matters but what we really are. But philosophers don't understand anything. As long as we live with other people, we are only what other people consider us to be. Thinking about how others see us and trying to make our image as attractive as possible is considered a kind of dissembling or cheating. But does there exist another kind of direct contact between my self and their selves except through the mediation of the eyes? Can we possibly imagine love without anxiously following our image in the mind of the beloved? When we are no longer interested in how we are seen by the person we love, it means we no longer love.
Tengo lay down on his bed. fully clothed, and let his mind wander through various possibilities. The last time he saw Aortuune was when he was ten. Now they were both thirty. They had both gone through a lot of experiences in the interim. Good things, things that weren't so good (probably slightly more of the latter). Our looks. our personalities, the environment where we live have all gone through changes. he thought. We're no longer a young boy and a young girl. Is the Aomame over there really the Aomame he had been searching for? And was he the Tengo Kawana she had been looking for? Tengo pictured them on the slide tonight looking at each other, disappointed at what they saw. Maybe they wouldn't find anything to talk about. That was a real possibility. Actually. it would be kind of strange if it didn't turn out that way.
Maybe we shouldn't meet again.
Tengo stared up at the ceiling.
Wasn't it better if they kept this desire to see each other hidden within them, and never actually got together? That way. there would always be hope in their hearts. That hope would be a small. yet vital flame that warmed them to their core —a tinyflame to cup one's hands around and protect from the wind, aflame that the violent winds of realitymight easily extinguish.
I don't know the question, but sex is definitely the answer.
My love keeps growing more passionate and egoistic, while his is waning and waning, and that's why we're drifting apart."
She went on musing.
"And there's no help for it. He is everything for me, and I want him more and more to give himself up to me entirely. And he wants more and more to get away from me. We walked to meet each other up to the time of our love, and then we have been irresistibly drifting in different directions. And there's no altering that."
We do not love people so much for the good they have done us, as for the good we do them.
Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.