There is a kind of love that is like dancing the cha-cha dance. You advance and the other retreats, and you retreat and advance; or it is like flying a kite, neither letting out nor taking in the thread, neither getting angry nor getting angry... The problem is that when love reaches this point, it is no longer a kind of enjoyment, but an intellectual game, and it is no different from a war.
She said, if you don't love me, let me go
He said, are you playing with me?