Entender o Amor

I shamelessly admit that I am a talented scholar. I come to this realization because I find myself intricately connected to the very notion of talent—much like when a beautiful young woman, clad in long leg stockings, stands before me and I can’t help but say, “For some reason, you seem inextricably linked to the word ‘seductive.’”

As for the subtle traces of my talent, I must confess there are several signs that unmistakably mark me as such. First, I possess a thick skin. Second, you could search all year round through every pocket I have and find a total of two yuan and fifty cents. This paltry sum falls a hundred times short of two hundred and fifty yuan, which clearly shows that I am not foolish—just somewhat scatterbrained. Third, I often walk with my head lowered in deep thought, sometimes even sidestepping like a crab. I like to indulge the notion that such behavior is a manifestation of overflowing talent.

Some say talent and beauty come hand in hand, and I possess this trait as well. People who meet me say I am not unattractive; those same people never say I am ugly.

As for the word “poetic talent” that often follows “talented scholar,” it is entirely fitting. Since ancient times, talent and emotion have been intertwined—because I am passionate, I have talent; because I have talent, I am passionate. This kind of poetic talent is aptly reflected in my personal conduct.

For example, I fancy beauty A, but then I set my sights on beauty B, only to secretly adore beauty C. While wandering among A, B, and C, I also yearn to be involved with bea