If roses are red and violets are blue, how do you explain love to the colour-blind

It's is a sad and trying fact that love is used as a wrecking ball to our defence against commercial immersion. Much as an ancient piece of architecture, an enigma poised in front of our eyes, as the pyramids were to their discoverers, baffles those who seek to find a science behind the beauty of a statue; Films, television series and, even, the events that unfold within a social group, will ever convince the unwitting population of any society. Instilling them with the virtuous cry of "I believe in love at first sight!' and "You had me at hello!"

This is not a thing to take pride in. All of us have those moments in life, and some have those lives based in those moments, where we will gives way to need and we sink into a world not our own. A facsimile of our existence, shown on a screen, with friendly characters and trials that seem all too familiar, is enough to relive you of heavy thoughts, most, probably innocuous in their nature, but all the same enough to weary a mind.

The point of this tale, dear friends is to indicate the flaw of humanity's inner Shakespeare, ever compelling romeo to ask "What light through yonder window breaks." Waiting with baited breath, and a sigh of relief when it hears "It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." So that when in real life Romeo turns out to be an absolute bastard, only interested in one thing, the human race recoils in shock and amazement. The same for today's Romeo, upon suiting his dear Juliette, pronouncing her beauty to be, to him, like the rising of the sun, is surprised upon hearing his maiden refer to him as a nancy and too clingy by far.

The lesson here, gentle folk, is to have faith in love, for it is faith that can make the blind see and a man walk on water, but do not believe in it, for belief is that desperation that makes a man kill that which threatens his belief, for that is all he knows.

This has been incredibly odd, but it did warn you that I would most likely be somewhat less than the image of sobriety during these interludes from reality. So I offer no apology, only the best of intension's in the most misguided of areas.

Yours,
The Inert Nomad