Now I understand why Georges Bataille wrote about some sovereign moments between two people in love, and everybody would take it as an allegory of the bloody Spanish Civil War. Hong Kong cultural critic Leung Man-tao discusses love and marriage in a recent interview, and his main point, if you allow me for an intentional and practical misreading of him, is that love is irreducible to any form or template of social relations. Behavioral economics, or game theory does not give a good enough pattern, while literature and the fine arts often pamper themselves in some fragments, situations, connections, or zones to account for the phenomenon of love. After all, love and death are, for psychoanalysts, the fundamental drives shaping and conditioning our life. If love surrenders itself to the limited human knowledge, then there will be no more creation and ingenuity, which appeal to our infinite capacities. Love is boundless, and so is hate.
If I was not a Buddhist, and was unable to see things from a different perspective, then I would very probably go insane over all the bullshit coming out of Hong Kong this past month. I simply do not understand, how did so many people have the patience to write in newspaper, on such basic treatises of democracy, such as one person, one vote. I do not dare to think a people could be so retarded, and have to be reminded that collective decisions are best made through a fair and accountable mechanism. Alas, this is Hong Kong: a highly developed society with a political system in its disproportional infancy. Fortunately, I believe in many lifetimes, and things will definitely get better some other lifetimes, relatively speaking. Then this world does not matter anymore.
I found this graffiti at Loyola Beach one evening, during a postprandial stroll from home, which read, “Get really close to another human being this life time.” Kudos to whoever wrote it, because it is probably the only constant in my, your, and everybody’s life. For some, the bond with animals is already sufficient, and I respect that. But for most of us, the idea of union with another human being is so seductive that we are almost, and ironically, condemned to it, in a Sartrean twist. Such is karma in one limited sense. Two films immediately come to mind: first, Clint Eastwood’s The Bridges of Madison County, in which the character Francesca Johnson (played by the always affable Meryl Streep) holds dear to herself and herself only, “the certainty that comes only once in a lifetime.” Second, Wong Kar-wai’s Happy Together, in which the character Lai Yiu-fai (played by Leung Chiu-wai) finally found the meanings of (emotional) togetherness in a state of physical separation. To the people I love, I say, may we get really close, in this and many lifetimes.
On the Ridge of Pratt 
“Love is boundless.”
So simple yet so complex. We love, be in love, or out of love everyday but if love is indeed boundless, do you reckon any human beings can fully comprehend love, like how the Buddha comprehend the meaning of life? And if so, does that mean that person, given the “love-nirvana” state of mind (for the lack of a better term), would not be hurt by love?
I take it bit by bit, fragment by fragment, and moment by moment. I will link them up, and voilà, you think you have a narrative. At least we can talk about it, so let’s be thankful for that. I do not see how most mortal can transcend language philosophically. If it were, it must be an illusion.