Small love. Big love. Skinny love. Toni Morrison’s “love is or love ain’t, thin love ain’t love at all”. Early in the morning love. Love and honour your parents love. Love at the ends of its tether. “I can’t do this anymore” love.
Here Natasha Joseph writes about ephemeral love as a part of Arts24's series More Than One Kind of Love.
You tell me about a Japanese diner where you drank saké and enjoyed a good meal. It was out of place in that district and, though you searched in the days that followed, you could never find it again.
Maybe, you say, it never existed at all. Maybe, I say, you walked into a thin place: the lines between this world and another shimmered, and you stepped right through.
Weeks later you retreat, and I’m left to wonder whether we, too, were a thin place. What strange, brute magic pushed us to the brink, perhaps, of love – then left me teetering alone in that place between worlds, the taste of saké sour in the back of my throat?
Natasha Joseph has more than 15 years’ experience in South African newsrooms. Her bylines as a writer include Index on Censorship magazine; The Atlantic; and The Big Issue South Africa. As an editor, she’s contributed extensively to City Press and The Conversation Africa.