Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.
Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.
Stations and airports are rehearsals for separations by death.
We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.
I want to love you wildly. I donโt want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.
I miss the animal buoyancy of New York, the animal vitality. I did not mind that it had no meaning and no depth.