“Here's the last scene of the '63 movie "8 1/2" by Fellini. The man in the glasses, Guido, cannot love -- says his wife, who seethes, for her husband not only cheats but styles a platonically promiscuous working life. Guido, film director, daily acquaints himself with new women, and he feels something for each one. Does he still feel something for his wife? Of course he does. Is that something that he feels for her, love? Well... What about his mistress? He still feels something for her? Yes. And is that love? Well... Oh, why not? It's love. As kooky and full of pasta as she is, his mistress is a lovable lady. In which case, yes, he loves his wife, too, with a different love, a love not aged and oily like parmesan -- a love clean, cyclic as autumn. And, you know? Guido acquaints himself with many men, too. Fellows, guides, oppressors. Of course he feels something for each of them. Many somethings, felt. And all lined up, men, women, big, small, a parade: no one love can shade any other.”

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