READING A NEWISH ESTONIAN TRAVELOGUE by British author Max Boyle called The Indrawn Heart, I came across this description of his one-time love interest/heart break  —

Quiet to the point of almost being sullen, Riina embodied the stereotype of the introspective, uncommunicative Estonian. She was hardly a suitable match, but this did not deter me. Within days of our meeting I’d been hopelessly, debilitatingly obsessed. I loved her air-cushioned walk as she came gliding over the cobbles of Town Hall Square to meet me; the way the tip of one ear protruded through the strands of her brown hair; her shyness, signalled by the occasional aversion of her gaze.

I remember the first time I fell for a woman, and being young and stupid, I mistook her golden hair for angel’s wings. She was no angel as it turned out. Oh, well. What we have here in Boyle’s book is a good long peak at the idiocy inherent in the ventricles and atria of the male heart. He does not want to fall for the sullen girl’s soft-cushioned walk, yet …. he just cannot help himself. One averted gaze and he’s in deep and down the abyss.

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