"Remembering our past, carrying it with us always, may be the necessary requirement for maintaining, as they say, the wholeness of the self. To ensure that the self doesn't shrink, to see that it holds on to its volume, memories have to be watered like potted flowers, and the watering calls for regular contact with the witnesses of the past, that is to say, with friends."
"[...] every one of us is immersed in a sea of salivas that blend and make us into one single community
of salivas, one humankind wet and bound together."
Never thought about saliva in that way- we are all connected by saliva 0_0...
"The child makes us care about the world, think about its future, willingly join in its racket and its turmoils, take its incurable stupidity seriously."
"But what a sorry fate, to be the soul of a body cobbled together so offhandedly, whose eye cannot do its looking without being washed every ten, twenty seconds! How are we to believe that the person we see before us is a free, independent being, his own master? How are we to believe that his body is the faithful expression of whatever soul inhabits it?"
We are limited by the functions of our bodies. We will be forever imposed by it.
Great interruption to the story- asking the reader: "At what exact moment did the real turn into the unreal, reality into reverie ? Where was the border? Where is the border?" And what is the significance in this?
Okay so basically in the end this woman which didn't really know herself, is finally heart and soul devoted to the one she loved- a deeper love developed. She realized that what she had was enough- and didn't want anything more. And that her identity was found in this love- this is the only way she could be her natural self.
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It's a sweet story- showing us that even we don't know who we are sometimes. That everything is flexible, and we adapt to different kinds of people, changing our faces as many times as it's convenient. Does that make us hypocritical? In the end- I don't think so- except that it's not real. And whether it's real is what matters to the individual (not to society). It affects you in the end. And I guess love helps to know ourselves, because someone loves you for who you are (even if you sometimes forget it). And they can always rekindle what you have forgotten (about yourself). This phrase: "Men don't look at me anymore." in the story is significant because she was thinking that maybe she didn't live enough as she should have. And maybe wanting some adventure... and not realizing that all she needed she already had. The point is not to have a stranger's gaze but your lover's- and it can be a difficult thing to learn (and probably more than once).
Do we really know the one's we love? Or can do they always have the capability of surprising us and making us feel as if we have never known them at all?
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