Готовый перевод Палач любви / The Executioner of Love: Love cure

I don't like working with patients in love. Maybe out of envy - I too dream of experiencing the magic of love. Maybe because love and psychotherapy are incompatible in principle. A good therapist struggles with darkness and strives for clarity, whereas romantic love is sustained by mystery and fades under scrutiny. I hate being the executioner of love.

But when Thelma told me at the very beginning of our first meeting that she was hopelessly, tragically in love, I didn't hesitate for a moment to take up her treatment. Everything I noticed at a glance: her wrinkled, seventy-year-old face with its decrepit, shaky chin, her thinning, unkempt hair dyed a vague yellow, her swollen hands with swollen veins, told me that she was probably mistaken; she could not be in love. How could love strike this decrepit, sickly body, dwell in this shapeless polyester tracksuit?

Besides, where is the halo of love bliss? Thelma's suffering did not surprise me, for love is always mixed with pain; but her love was some monstrous misalignment-it brought no joy at all, and Thelma's whole life was a torment.

So I agreed to treat her, because I was sure that she was not suffering from love, but from some rare aberration that she mistook for love. Not only did I believe that I could help Thelma, but I was also fascinated by the idea that this false love would help shed light on the deep secrets of true love.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.

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