Somebody watching

. . in every art, including the art of fiction, there’s always somebody watching. . . . The question is: In what way are two people more satisfactorily alone when somebody else is present? What on earth does this mean? I have always felt there is a triangular quality to every love affair. There are two lovers and a third element – the idea of being in love itself. I wonder if it is possible to fall in love without this third presence, an imaginary witness to love as a thing of wonder, cast in the glow of our deepest stories about ourselves.                                                            Siri Hustvedt A Plea For Eros

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