He Wished He Had Some Kind Of

He Could Hardly Imagine Anymore What His Life Would Be Without The Weight Of His Hidden Knowledge. He'd Come To Think Of It As A Kind Of Penance. It Was Self-destructive, He Could See That, But That Was The Way Things Were. People Smoked, They Jumped Out Of Airplanes, They Drank Too Much And Got Into Their Cars And Drove Without Seat Belts.

His Love For Her Was So Deeply Woven With Resentment That He Could Not Untangle The Two.

They Turned A Distracted Gaze On The World, Wide-eyed, Somehow, And Questioning.

The Lake Of Dreams Grew Gradually, Over Many Years, Elements And Ideas Accruing Until They Gained Enough Critical Mass To Become A Novel.

...so Young, So Lonely And Naive, That She Imagined Herself As Some Sort Of Vessel To Be Filled Up With Love. But It Wasn't Like That. The Love Was Within Her All The Time And Its Only Renewal Came From Giving It Away.