“The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful … Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory.”
― Milan Kundera, The unbearable lightness of being.
I loved that novel.
When I was 12, a really good looking senior was confiding in me about having a huge crush on one of my girl friends. When I probed curiously, “who is it?”–he said:
It translates as: “She’s the person you’re thinking of in your heart.”
After that day, I started finding this senior charming. His vagueness kept me guessing, and as a result increased my curiosity about him and that special lady. Through his vague words, he transformed something rather banal, easily forgettable, and perhaps even mundane into something rather beautiful.
And his words actually did make the girl beautiful and somewhat even legendary, at least in my memory. For a while later, I found this sort of vague communication rather manipulative, because it seriously messes up with a person’s memory.
And perhaps, you will never find out the truth of what this person ever thought.
Yet perhaps, that’s the whole point–
–and the beauty, and the perfection–