It Is Not Love That Is Blind,

I Have Decided To Leave Clea’s Last Letter Un-answered. I No Longer Wish To Coerce Anyone, To Make Promises, To Think Of Life In Terms Of Compacts, Resolutions, Covenants. It Will Be Up To Clea To Interpret My Silence According To Her Own Needs And Desires, To Come To Me If She Has Need Or Not, As The Case May Be. Does Not Everything Depend On Our Interpretation Of The Silence Around Us?

We Are All Hunting For Rational Reasons For Believing In The Absurd.

Lovers Can Find Nothing To Say To Each Other That Has Not Been Said And Unsaid A Thousand Times Over. Kisses Were Invented To Translate Such Nothings Into Wounds

Gamblers And Lovers Really Play To Lose.

A Taste Older Than Meat, Older Than Wine. A Taste As Old As Cold Water.