Влюблен я в мою сотрудницу, греко-киприотку однако, к сожалениу безответно. По этому поводу вчера написал кое что. По англииски. Привожу текст:


WHAT LOVE IS.

I do not know what love is. And in fact nobody probably does for sure. Every individual has his own, individual perception and definition of it, because some physiological, primitive feelings like feeling of fullness after appeasing one’s hunger, feeling of pain, howling of empty stomach or thirst are felt in almost exactly the same way by everybody, like the taste of Big Mac is shared by millions, but feeling of love is a higher feeling and every individual feels it in a different way.
But does love have to be defined? I don’t think so. It is not necessary after all.

I think about her almost all the time. Every day, every hour. I love her hair, I love her shoulders, her fingers, her eyes, her smile. I love it when she wraps her curly locks mechanically around her finger when she is reading and I smile happily when I catch this moment. I love her laugh, her voice, her physical presence. I sulk when she is not present and rejoice when she is.
I do not want to notice her flaws, which she has a plenty, well, as most of us do. I turn her flaws into merits and, as antique Greek poetess Sappho said in one of her poems,
” when I briefly glance at her then speech becomes impossible”. And when she looks at me, when our eyes meet I feel elation and primal fear. My heart misses a beat.
If I try to talk to her I cannot utter a single coherent sentence, I look like a complete idiot. I am like a schoolboy who started fancying a girl for the first time and does not know how to proceed.
So is it love? Or, probably, infatuation? A massive crush maybe? The truth is:
I DON’T CARE!
Whatever it is, it is good, notwithstanding the fact that it is almost sadistically unrequited.
Who cares! I feel, ergo I live, and whatever name one calls it is not really important.