For Some Time Now She Has Had

Letters, Like Compilation Tapes, Were Really Vehicles For Unexpressed Emotions And She Was Clearly Putting Far Too Much Time And Energy Into Them.

I've Been A Compulsive Reader For As Long As I Can Remember.

You Must Do What You Enjoy.

It Would Be Inappropiate, Undignified, At 38, To Conduct Friendships Or Love Affairs With The Ardour Or Intensity Of A 22 Year Old. Falling In Love Like That? Writing Poetry? Crying At Pop Songs? Dragging People Into Photobooths? Taking A Whole Day To Make A Compilation Tape? Asking People If They Wanted To Share Your Bed, Just For Company? If You Quoted Bob Dylan Or Ts Eliot Or, God Forbid, Brecht At Someone These Days They Would Smile Politely And Step Quietly Backwards, And Who Would Blame Them? Ridiculous, At 38, To Expect A Song Or Book Or Film To Change Your Life.

He Put One Hand Lightly On The Back Of Her Neck And Simultaneously She Placed One Hand Lightly On His Hip, And They Kissed In The Street As All Around Them People Hurried Home In The Summer Light, And It Was The Sweetest Kiss That Either Of Them Would Ever Know. This Is Where It All Begins. Everything Starts Here, Today. And Then It Was Over.