How often do we find the right person?
She could be in another country, which will never give me a
Visa. Or worse, born in another time. She could be Janis Joplin.
She could be Dominique Francon. For love I can cross
borders, but how do I enter Ayn Rand’s imagination?
What if I see her and words fail me?
What if she is sitting across from me in the bus, reading The Fountainhead? Do I just say excuse me and tell her that she is the one? She may have
already found him. And I am no Ethan Hawke.
When she comes I shall know her.' (Robert W. Chambers, 'The King in Yellow')
ReplyDeleteThis is what immediately came to mind as I read this story. Maybe we never know who the right one. Maybe it is all about taking chances until we get it right. Unless we remain afraid to. And never get the chance to find out.
Also, may I say that the last line might not be that correct! ;) Good stuff!