The artsy vibe of the series of vignettes is cute for a coffee table, but the text is narrow-minded, too tiny to accommodate the possibilities and diffrent types of love. Maybe the problem is not that I would like more words, maybe I expected something more magnanimous (as long as we are talking about love) or more deep in the depths of despair (as long as we are talking about love), less cliché, more generous? I’m not sure, but it wasn’t for me.
“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that – I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much – so very much to learn.” — Sylvia Plath
Leave a Reply