we pretend that love never dies

one day i'll ask him to write this blog for me. really. he can almost guess my feelings. here goes another (failed) translation, by myself, of a remarkable text:

death never truly dies, for time sees to its constant ressurection. love dies though, and dies regularly: sometimes in the very moment of its conception, as a newborn, and sometimes due to an extreme lack of caring, of nurturing, forsaken through the storm.
death hides in pictures, behind blocked windows, under our nose quite often. as it does not live, it does not die. it is always there, strong, tangible, true.
we pretend that love never dies because, truth be told, we believe in spiritualism.

by filipe nunes vicente in mar salgado - another brilliant piece of the odi et amo series. to read what he writes is often an experiece as remarkable as it is frustrating.