Saw this in the news recently about love locks being taken down from a Paris bridge. When I first saw the bridge, on a rainy day made for romances, oddly I didn't get the idea; I thought it looked ugly seemingly bursting at the seams with locks. If I have to spin some story around it of two star crossed lovers and one final trip to Paris and one last show of love I suppose I could contrive a romantic view of it.
What is it that makes people carve their names and the ubiquitous hearts on trees and rocks [and disgustingly on centuries old paintings in monuments]. A need to declare the intensity of the emotion to the world, to capture that moment for a long time if not for eternity? Is it an act of hope or exhibitionism or just sheer joy?
Now that the bridge is gone, perhaps the next visitor would not like me spend a moment or two wondering who those initials belonged to, what their story was. And perhaps there is no place to go to for those who put the lock, to look back in despair or in wonder or in gratitude or in any of those multitude of emotions love always bring forth.
