When I was assigned this topic to write about, I immediately thought of Eros. The ancient Greek word that describes the romantic side of love. Philos and Agape are really more spiritual in nature, but Eros, now that’s a physical love. I envision Eros as the sweaty fumbling in the back of old Chevrolets, and the firelit evenings where everything seems to go just right and the sex is perfect, And even in the dark, rent by the hour hotel rooms where men and women with no names briefly join and then quickly part, never knowing the other persons name. All of these things are Eros to me. All of these things, while they might seem repulsive to you, are actually romantic to some. The actual definition of romance has been significantly altered in the minds of men as time progressed. The original definition of romance is: a fiction; a falsehood; a love affair. Now I am sure that you all know that everyone has a different definition of love. Some see love as being able to endure me, some see love as being able to please me, and others see love as being able to obey me. All of these are true to some and violently wrong to others, but that is the beauty of love, it is available to all. Romance is therefore a relative thing. The fact is that romance, or Eros, is different things to different people. To me, romance is a fleeting thing. It is a step towards a better thing, towards love that isn’t physical. Romance epitomizes the best and worst of love. It is a thing that I at once desire and despise. I suppose that I will eventually get ensnared in it’s web, I can only hope that the nectar that it feeds me will be sweet enough to offset the acrid aftertaste of the inadequacy of romance as a substitute for the real love that I seek.
I recently read a mystery book by the name of “And Then There Were None” by Agatha Christie. I read this book because I have read other books by Agatha Christie that were pretty well written. Ten people are invited to an island, called “Indian Island”,by letters that were signed by people they had met before. When they got to the island, they found out that their host, U.N.Owen, had not arrived yet. At dinner, they heard a voice, accusing each of them of a murder, which they were all guilty of. After one of them is killed, according to the first verse of a poem that is framed above