I've begun listening to The Alchemist by Paul Coehlo, but don't know if I'll be able to get further than the opening bit. It begins with some body called the alchemist who picks up a book and reads a story about Narcissus who loved to gaze upon his own beauty reflected in the lake. One day he fell in and drowned. The lake turned to salty tears after his death. Turns out the lake had been doing the same thing back at Narcissus -- contemplating its beauty reflected in his eyes. The alchemist thought this was a lovely story, whereas it turns my stomach. The lake did not love or mourn for Narcissus, or even regret the part that it had played in his death. The lake mourned the loss of its mirror. So we've got two selfish people here, who love not the person before them, but what they see in the lover's eyes.
Maybe it's just a bit too close to home for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment