Do You Understand The Sadness Of Geography?

When Someone Speaks He Looks At A Mouth, Not Eyes And Their Colors, Which, It Seems To Him, Will Always Alter Depending On The Light Of A Room, The Minute Of The Day. Mouths Reveal Insecurity Or Smugness Or Any Other Point On The Spectrum Of Character. For Him They Are The Most Intricate Aspect Of Faces. He's Never Sure What An Eye Reveals. But He Can Read How Mouths Darken Into Callousness, Suggest Tenderness. One Can Often Misjudge An Eye From Its Reaction To A Simple Beam Of Sunlight.

Right Now, I Have No Idea What I Will Write Or If I Will Write Again.

I Am Not In Love With Him, I Am In Love With Ghosts. So Is He, He's In Love With Ghosts.

But We Were Interested In How Our Lives Could Mean Something To The Past. We Sailed Into The Past.

He Will Hear The Rain Before He Feels It, A Clicking On The Dry Grass, On The Olive Leaves.