Electronic Casanova?

Perhaps.

But from the right to the left hand is a long trek across a terrain that has no history of delivering the goods intact. The electronic body knows no straight lines, and travelling blind fakes its moves from sleights of hand copied from jesters and fools, old tricks and dead letters stolen from a de-throned court.

The tail of his horse snaps like a whip.

Love and its backlash.

'Love', said the screen in the Prince's hand, 'Is Dead'.