Yesterday, I finally received a reply to an e-mail I had sent a few months ago. I thought this person would not reply, since my behaviour with him had not been so nice. But he did. It was an extremely touching message, he told me things he had never told anyone before, and so did I when I wrote him back.
In English, you only have one word to express affection. You use the same verb to express your passion for pizza as well as your boundary with your partner. It's like love is not well defined in your society. How could I express, then, the feelings I had towards that person yesterday? A man I barely know, who barely knows me, but seemed to understand better that many close people my situation a couple of years ago? Who took months to reply to a stupid e-mail I sent him because he felt that was the chance to find someone who would understand his troubles?
Is it a form of love, or not? And if yes, which form of love is it?
What kind of boundary is this, which spot does it occupy among the love I feel for my family, for my boyfriend, for books?
It's still surprising, to me, that things like this may happen. After all the disappointment friendship has caused in my sistem of values, there can still be a person who
understands, in the purest and unconditioned of all manners.
This thing, yesterday, brightened my day.