love
"They were talking about him at lunch, said Richard. (But he could not tell her he loved her. He held her hand. Happiness is this, he thought.)...He had not said "I love you"; but he held her hand. Happiness is this, is this he thought." Virginia Woolf, "Mrs. Dalloway"
There are things we know we need to say but we cannot say them. It is as if language is expendable in order to connect. Even in our utmost desire to connect there is a gap, even in marriage, where solidute is diginty. "And there is a dignity in people; a solitude; even between husband and wife a gulf; and that one must respect..." The connection comes from mudane things like reaching to hold a hand. Or fridge food writing.
There are things we know we need to say but we cannot say them. It is as if language is expendable in order to connect. Even in our utmost desire to connect there is a gap, even in marriage, where solidute is diginty. "And there is a dignity in people; a solitude; even between husband and wife a gulf; and that one must respect..." The connection comes from mudane things like reaching to hold a hand. Or fridge food writing.
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