I love her delicate face and how her "hair" gets tangled all around it! Excellent!
Kundera reminded me of a book I read a few years ago, it's from a greek writer (Alcyone Papadakis):
Do we love a person or is it love we love?
Do we love what they give us or what we expect them to give?
How much do we love their shape and how much their transition we so carefully have been working on?
And what we expect how much can it hold awaiting?
It can hold.
I don't know either, whether it's a blessing or a curse this endurance.
I don't know either, what worths best our soul's peace or this anguish?
(Apologies for my interpretation, I tried my best)