When you don’t know how to answer a question, there is only one solution: Wikipedia. On Wikipedia, however, there is nothing written about whether Silvia is more than a friend to me; the question torments me like the summer cicadas, and I can’t shake it. I try to divide it in two. Does Silvia love me? Do I love Silvia? I take at least eleven tests on Facebook to discover if there is a person who loves me. The result is unanimous: Silvia does everything for me that a person in love does, someone who, however, doesn’t have the courage to reveal her love. Now it is up to me. But I don’t want to discover it with a test. It is too important. I have to verify this in person.
“Silvia, should we study together? I need some help with the Greek poets.”
Decidedly, poetry serves no purpose; it is only an excuse to fall in love.