I breathe slowly and deeply. I make my eyes still under eyelids, I make my mind still, and soon, Sleep, seeing a perfect reproduction of himself, comes to be united with his facsimile.

I won't ever leave you, even though you're always leaving me.

I've noticed that Henry needs an incredible amount of physical activity all the time in order to be happy. It's like hanging out with a greyhound.

Running is many things to me: survival, calmness, euphoria, solitude. It is proof of my corporeal existence, my ability to control my movement through space if not time, and the obedience, however temporary, of my body to my will. As I run I displace air, and things come and go around me, and the path moves like a filmstrip beneath my feet.

It’s dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.

Now I wonder if it means that the future is a place, or like a place, that I could go to; that is go to in some way other than just getting older.

But you make me happy. It's living up to being happy that's the difficult part.