"Ịhụnanya nke oge a": dị ka ọ dị

Ndị mmadụ na-ezute, ndị mmadụ na-ahụ n'anya, lụọ di na nwunye. Nwee ụmụaka, ghọgbuo, hapụ ndị ị hụrụ n'anya. Ha na-apụta n'ihu ibe ha na adịghị ike ha niile. Obi abụọ adịghị ya na ha mere nhọrọ ziri ezi. Ha na-agwụ ibe ha ike. Ha kpebiri ịga n'ihu. Nke a bụ Lovehụnanya nke Oge A, usoro akụkọ gbasara akụkọ gbasara onwe ya sitere na kọlụm Lovehụnanya nke Oge A na New York Times.

What do an eccentric lawyer with bipolar disorder and an ambitious dating app creator have in common? A «bookworm» and a pregnant homeless woman? An elderly man who buried his beloved wife six years ago, and a girl desperately longing for a fatherly caress she never knew?

All of them are residents of New York, beautiful, diverse, multinational. And each of them once became the hero of the column «Modern love» in the daily newspaper The New York Times. In the 15th year of its existence, based on the best letters received by the editors, a series was shot.

In the first season, there were eight episodes — about dates on which something went wrong (or absolutely everything went wrong). About the inability to open up to another out of fear that we will never be accepted as we are, which means that we are doomed to eternal loneliness.

Eziokwu ahụ bụ na mgbe mgbe n'oge dimkpa na mmekọrịta anyị na-agbalị inweta ihe anyị na-enwetaghị n'oge ọ bụ nwata, na nke a ọ ga-abụ ihe kwesịrị ekwesị iji n'eziokwu kwenye onwe anyị.

Ịhụnanya dị ukwuu karịa romance na mmekọahụ na ogologo karịa ndụ

Banyere alụmdi na nwunye ndị yiri ka ọ pụghị ịzọpụta. Banyere ohere efu na ịhụnanya na-adịghị ndụ. Na mmetụta a amaghị oke afọ, anaghị aghọta nkewa nwoke na nwanyị.

Ịhụnanya dị ukwuu karịa romance na mmekọahụ na ogologo karịa ndụ.

N’agbanyeghị ihe ndị mmadụ na-ekwu banyere eziokwu ahụ bụ́ na ọtụtụ ndị taa na-ahọrọ ịmalite mmekọrịta ma emesịa ma ọ bụ ịnọ n’alụghị di ma ọlị, ma ọ bụ na ọnụ ọgụgụ ịgba alụkwaghịm n’ozuzu na-eme ka e nwee obi abụọ banyere ihe omume dị ka alụmdi na nwunye, o doro anya na ịhụnanya dị anyị nile mkpa.

Perhaps in a slightly different form than before. Perhaps without the exchange of vows and pathetic «…until death do you part» (and maybe with them). Such a different, unpredictable, strange modern love.

Nkume a-aza