“Hope is the most important thing!” exclaimed the Optimist, the Visionary, the Faithful.
At the start of time, the mortal woman who was moulded from earth and water was ready, and she was sent down the hills of the Olympian Gods. When the lid is closed, all evil started to spread on earth which would plague men forever.
“Alone there, Elpis, in her indestructible home…”
Cara  closed her eyes. The loss of her lover left her where she started, shattering her newly found identity, throwing her into an absurdist void. She lost 3kg in a week. She barely slept. But she had never cried once—maybe the blaze of passion and pain dried up the tears within her. At the same time, she began to wonder about the nihilism and absurdism mist which surrounded her and seemed to smother her. Where was the romance leading her towards? What had it done to her? What lied ahead? How to find the purpose and meaning (if there is any)? Just like it was for all those people who think, thoughts about suicide adorned her sleepless nights.
It went on for about a week, the time she spent seeking solace in human intellect. It made her more miserable than ever: If human life is truly meaningless, why was she still alive? The feeling of futility and hopelessness crept up her spine like vines. How could she live without love, which offers such powerful distractions! She ceased the painful practice of seeking and thinking and she only responded to stimuli. There was no way!
One day, one of her optimistic friend, who got enough of her spiritlessness half-coaxed, half-compelled to talk to her and give her advice. “You need to cheer up,”she said, “After all, there are plenty of guys like him out there. Picture yourself being with someone else now! You will soon fall in love again before you know it!”
Voila! Simple and brainless the advice seemed, it struck a special chord with her. Ah, a whole new world unravelled itself before her eyes! Finally, Finally! All colour, movement and vibrancy rushed back to her mind again, like the unstoppable current in Аму́р, in spring!
She buried her face in her hands, for she was too happy. It was also an action of necessity: it was only when she no longer looked could she see. Hope, oh hope, what picture it paints! The power of human imagination provides us with images so bright, so vivid, so true, especially when one sees herself in it. The picture in my head, how beautiful it is! The cheerful tune of a gale, the thing with features! How desperate had men clutched to you, with trembling hands! But here I am—here I am! I submit myself to you, I embrace you now! I demand you to perch in my soul and occupy the whole of me! 
Thorough elevation. And she was happy again.
However, her sublimity deserted her soon enough, and she entered a melancholy resolution period. What hope granted her seems so near yet so far away—always on the other side the dock, when one gaze into the distance from the grand mansion. For fleeting moments her heart sank so deep in the abyss of despair, she couldn’t see her expectation anymore, she was in a state of anxiety. But before long the birds of hope started chirping again and her heart was filled with gratitude towards it. “So we beat on—and one fine morning…..”
Her life had become an iodine clock reaction. Since she was 18, she hoped and she feared, but she clutched to hope nonetheless. The reaction stopped finally when the reactants are used up. So was her life after many years. She fell in love and she broke up, and though she never found love, she always fell in love nonetheless. She thought she was happy—she thought she was truly aware of her life, of her predicaments—she thought her positive attitude towards life had truly been a blessing. For there was no way for her to know, once men clutch to hope, they lost control over their own fate. For there was no way for her to know, hope is the greatest of all evil, which only drags men into a prolonged, repetitive model of suffering.
And as there was no way for her to know…”From now on, hope would live with man forever, to give him succour, just when he felt that everything was coming to an end.”
Pandora: Hesiod, Works and Days:
Hermes gave a gilded and intricately carved box, a gift from Zeus with an explicit warning that she must never open it, come what may. Draped in raiment fit for the gods, she was presented to Epimetheus, Prometheus’ half-brother.
The name Cara means the beloved. It was a random choice…
Hope is the thing with feathers (254)
Emily Dickinson, 1830 – 1886
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
 Now man has this box of happiness perpetually in the house and congratulates himself upon the treasure inside of it; it is at his service: he grasps it whenever he is so disposed, for he knows not that the box which Pandora brought was a box of evils. Hence he looks upon the one evil still remaining as the greatest source of happiness—it is hope.