ELECTIVE LOVE
Is it an elective smile? Is it an elective electron? Is it an elective affection? Or is it an elective lust, nicely embellished with all the enticing adverts? Why have we chosen to amplify this day of lust as love with its common commercialized craze? Why have we imported, licensed and embraced this so-called celebration in the name of projecting erotic love for man and woman? Why have we singled out 14th or 15th to indulge in this reddish love? And who the heck is Cupid, the chubby little boy wearing diapers on the Valentine card and shooting the arrow to the heart? Is there a spin control out there that we don't know off? What's in this day at all that, condones the annual shortage of condoms from the stalls? The conundrum of mixing core cultural care and elective ones comes and come again. The contours of core colours creeping into elective civilisation in creative circles of consequence is certainly intoxicating our consciousness. And now ...