romantic

Two friends, on marriage on a cliff.

Alexander: Isn’t there something so much more romantic about getting hitched in a setting devoid of human touch — a place not shaped by anyone’s ideas and ideologies but your own? When you decide to let nature be your cathedral, your love becomes the architect.

Cecily: No! I want our relationship to be strong enough to blossom in reality — a reality shaped by previous architects and heavy expectations and other people’s disdain.

Two friends, on a poetic life.

Cecily: Foster is a young man I met at the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. He was such a gentle soul, and an inspiring one. I didn’t think to ask his last name, and he doesn’t know mine. When we parted it felt romantic not to swap details, but now I feel a sense of loss. The only way I could think to contact him again was to leave a note on the literary board in Shakespeare and Company, where he goes all the time to read and to hide his photographs in the pages of their books as a kind of art quest for the public.

Charles: Oh God. Do you ever do things that aren’t poetic?

Cecily, on dating.

Cecily: The problem is, I date like a man. And men like the company of other men. In dresses.

Two friends, on modern romance.

Nigel: I am not sure flaneurs or flaneuses would ever meet on Tinder.

Cecily: Don’t be so pretentious that you can’t be open to modern first meetings and classically romantic evolutions thereafter.