She is there before you. Available all day. But you know she will say no. Then you try you all day by small and tender words diverted to seduce her. Your tricks are going nowhere. They are easily spotted. You think the only effective, but nobody is fooled. This is where all lovers are ridiculous. The movements of the soul, the movements of their being, they go, they come, leaving and returning on their steps, never satisfied to give up, never sure of their destiny. In anticipation and doubt, hesitation, and sometimes confusion. They secretly rejoice, if only the impossible took place ... Because that is who is infinitely desirable, which is definitely refused. "The man burns to do what he feared most," said Tadic. You open a conversation window, but you no longer dare. Enough of chess! Yet you think about all day, you believe in your heart that things depend on you and refuse to concede to the other its share of responsibility. In this the love is tyrannical.
Now paralysis. You want, but you can not do anything else. She won, you're dumb. You will not say anything else inside. In a last hesitation tell you something, the less possible, because you have nothing to say, the current does not pass. Tonight you will take the decision to drop like yesterday. Tomorrow you begin again. This is what Camus calls the myth of Sisyphus.
But no you're a hunter, a hunter and does not let go until he has his prey in sight, driven by an inscrutable force, even in the greatest despair, he finds the strength to persevere. For the honor. Love is a permanent imbalance. Killed in action ... rather than having deserted. Here he sees things from a new angle. This beloved wife to whom he said he had good intentions it now seems like a simple beast he must track down an enemy of war we must fight or die.
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