I think there is something defective about Love and it is this. Love requires familiarity. You love your own children, but not the child starving in the forgotten world (the third world) with equal affection. You love your wife, but not equally the woman suffering from abuse in an open secret.
It is a tragic flaw because Justice would either exist on earth, or be fought for mightily, if people were capable of loving outside their own insular bubbles.
If people could love the detainees at Guantanamo then there would be outrage that even medical doctors join in the torture with the fly Lords. If people could love their own US soldiers, then there would be outrage that US women soldiers are expected to degrade themselves sexually for the purposes of advancing phsychological torture.
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If People could Love more expansively and more expensively, and Hate more exclusively and more elusively what a World it'd be.
But instead we have this defective kind of Love, this bubble-Love, this little-Love, this black-sheep cousin of Hatred to rule a mad, mad World.
Sometimes I feel like a carrion bird for loving in a world that loves to hate.
Caw!
Caw!
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