29.10.12

Hair

Every Spanish class, we sing at the end—immersion and all that. Today, the end verse was, translated, 'When a man loves a woman and she doesn't love him, it's like a bald man finding a comb on the street.'

I wonder, though—am I the comb or the man? Am I the tool that wants to be used, or the person who wants to have something to use it with? Am I purposeless and redundant, or broken and incomplete?

How do I tell?

No comments:

Post a Comment