All The Things Paper-thin And Paper-frail, And

Okay Is Bursting With Sensuality

We'd Failed, Maybe, But Some Mysteries Aren't Meant To Be Solved.

There's A Place In The Brain For Knowing What Cannot Be Remembered.

The Pleasure Of Remembering Had Been Taken From Me, Because There Was No Longer Anyone To Remember With. It Felt Like Losing Your Co-rememberer Meant Losing The Memory Itself, As If The Things We'd Done Were Less Real And Important Than They Had Been Hours Before.

A Margo For Each Of Us--and Each More Mirror Than Window.