One time I was driving with my dad in the car and we drove past this very old farmer couple. They were loading a trailer with wood or something.
My dad told me that the guy impregnated the woman when he was 14. She was 14 too. They were forced to marry.
The wife was smiling.
They seemed happy.
We will never have that bond. The connection that forms when you work alongside each other everyday for decades, where you are so intimate with each other that you can tell your partners thoughts just by looking at them.
With the internet and smartphones we will never again experience a time in which hypergamy is restricted to the boundaries of your local community.
Love died when that first thumbs up landed in some womans notifications.
We are the first of many lost generations to come.
Or as T.S. Eliot put it:
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
- The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot
As I am writing this, I have tears in my eyes. I hope all of you sleep well.
Good night.
My dad told me that the guy impregnated the woman when he was 14. She was 14 too. They were forced to marry.
The wife was smiling.
They seemed happy.
We will never have that bond. The connection that forms when you work alongside each other everyday for decades, where you are so intimate with each other that you can tell your partners thoughts just by looking at them.
With the internet and smartphones we will never again experience a time in which hypergamy is restricted to the boundaries of your local community.
Love died when that first thumbs up landed in some womans notifications.
We are the first of many lost generations to come.
Or as T.S. Eliot put it:
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
- The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot
As I am writing this, I have tears in my eyes. I hope all of you sleep well.
Good night.
