‘They look so fine, and young, and wrapped up in each other. Love is
so fresh and clean at that age. Don’t you think?’
‘Margareta! I’m surprised at you! We both know there’s no such thing
as love!’
‘What do you call it?’
Tatyana snuffed our her cigarette. That sly smile. ‘Mutations of
wanting.’
‘You’re not serious.’
‘I am quite serious. Look at those kids. The boys want(to get the girls
into bed so they can have their corks popped off their bottles and
forth. When a man blows his nose you don’t call it love. Why get all
misty-eyed when a man blows another part of his anatomy? As for the
girls, they’re either going along for the ride because they can get the
things they want from the boys, or else maybe they enjoy being in bed
too. Thought I doubt it. I never knew an eighteen-year-old boy who
didn’t drop the egg off his spoon at the first fence.’
‘But that’s list! You’re talking about lust, not love.’
‘Lust is the hard sell. Love is the soft sell. The profit margin is the
same.’
‘But love’s the opposite of self-interest. True, tender, love is pure and
selfless.’
‘No. True, tender love is self-interest so sinewy that it only looks
selfless.’
