This text is written in a rather peculiar way. The notion of time does not exist as it does to most people. Normally, people hold the time associated with an event to be as important as the place in which it occurred. I don't necessarily mean the exact time, but rather it's significance in chronology. The author has absolutely no concept of time in this fashion. As she describes, time was simply split into her time with him and her time longing to be with him. I find this to be a very interesting representation because it is true to her experience. During this period with A, her affair with him was her life. Everything else was moved to the periphery; if she wasn't with him, she was shopping for something to make her experience with him more enjoyable, or day dreaming of being with him. Her passion for him was so strong it distorted any normal notion of time into this absolute breakdown.
While reading this, the question of whether or not this infatuation was healthy kept popping into my mind. At first I wanted to dismiss her as crazy and wasting her life. She was living for only a few brief moments, which she seemed not to be able to enjoy at the time. How can it be considered a healthy life when every waking moment was dedicated to him in one way or another. I felt sorry for her. But then I realized just how lucky she actually was. She experienced a level of passion that most people could only dream of, and she had it for a relatively long time, too. This story is just as beautiful as any well inspired love poem, but it is more genuine in that it is written in prose that expresses exactly what it means to say; it is not made up like she made herself up for A. I envy her, for even if her longing for A tortured her in their time apart, it allowed her to experience absolute bliss, if only for fleeting moments.
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