Karin Pinter – In This Silence

Somebody recently posed the question of whether or not romance is dead. This stirred up fervent replies in its defence from the few who overheard. And just the other day, I was asked if I’m romantic. Like a pile of sand swept out of sun-baked lethargy by the wind, the subject seems to worry a lot of people these days.

First of all, some might say, “Romance? Why don’t we just start with being nice to each other again?” I hear about people who don’t think twice to help others in need, and I admit on a lot of levels we have become isolated and scared to reach out.

In fact, in this so-called Age of Aquarius, we principally tend to share our love only with those close to us, or strangers who captivate our motherly instincts, as in my case these last few days having no voice. I have been offered tea and healing advice by the bucket-load, and whilst it is endearing, it made me wonder how and with whom we ‘share the love’ these days.

But I won’t question Aquarius today, and shall return to this noble and oft-ignored trait that can qualify us or not as lovers or re-ignite jaded relations…

So, am I romantic, and what does that really mean?

I bow down to the literary mammoths of yesteryear… Leo Tolstoy, Victor Hugo, P. B. Shelley, and countless other writers who have lured us to tears over twists of fate, lovers gone astray or set the foundations for love’s philosophy. I listen to songs that could send diabetics into a panic. I am a dreamer who grew up surrounded by the Arab and Roman heritage of my country, and carries these influences with me wherever I go. A little piece of Andalucía sits on my window ledge, 8,000 kilometres away from its place of origin.

But whilst I tie words together in a particular fashion at times, or drift away to distant worlds with lulling music, I am a firm believer in actions not over-coated sugary sentiments, and the more selfless the more genuine. I am known to do ‘stupid things’ for people at certain times, but these have not been limited to lovers. And I believe that showing them off is presumptuous, which is why I rarely talk about what I have done in the past. The curious will have to wait patiently and judge for themselves.

It’s not a case of listing your accomplishments hoping to win somebody’s favour, or constantly fabricating ‘romantic scenarios’ because this would be contrived and confuse the reality of one’s feelings.

The essence of a true romantic does not lie just in waltzing away to the Blue Danube or indulging in candle-lit dinners for two. Romantics often display their abilities in all elements of life – burning through adversity, breezing past obstacles courageously, washing away somebody’s pain simply by holding hands, or planting their humility firmly in the ground where others brashly claim the spotlight.

Some of us may not consciously make time for romance, but sometimes the simplest, most innocent gesture will be worth more than all the glasses of wine or sunsets we could share.

Romance is magic – that certain something you can’t always put to words. The impulsive spark that surprises you when you least expect it.

Ultimately, romance speaks for itself. And it is certainly not dead.

Anybody who wishes to challenge me on that is welcome to place their bets…

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