Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Why Fantasy Is Preferable To Life

If someone asked me, 'What is beauty?', I'd say...

It is a tall stranger riding a motorcycle. He wears a helmet, black in color, without graphics, which either covers his entire face, or just ends above his lips and chin with the visor on. He has a gorgeous, kissable mouth. The hands on the handlebar are big enough to close around mine completely, and the fingers are long, strong and supple. The wrist peeking out from the shirt sleeve looks strong but wiry. It is hairy, but not extremely that it should end up being repulsive.

I feel that the aura of mystery and intrigue is what makes him so attractive. With the helmet on, you don't know what lies beneath - A face you may or may not find attractive. With the helmet on, you're not judgmental.

But heck, that ain't life. Life isn't covered with a veil of sexiness. It's the coarse, sun-burnt, weather-beaten face underneath that helmet.

In other words, life's a bitch, and fantasy is always more favored.

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