Pressed against her I can hear eternity -- hollow, lonely spaces and currents that churn ceaselessly, and the fallen snow welcomes the falling snow with a whispered "Hush".

Her lips tarried at mine. Baiting each other with the warmth of our breath, barely grazing, detouring, then connecting.

and yet I feel that the most real home I'll ever have is the space where our roads merged and traveled along together... for a time.

Which is scarier-- lust or temptation?

Edward Said talks about Orientalism in very negative terms because it reflects the prejudices of the west towards the exotic east. But I was also having fun thinking of Orientalism as a genre like Cowboys and Indians is a genre – they’re not an accurate representation of the American west, they’re like a fairy tale genre.

Sometimes, upon waking, the residual dream can be more appealing that reality, and one is reluctant to give it up. For a while, you feel like a ghost -- Not fully materialized, and unable to manipulate your surroundings. Or else, it is the dream that haunts you. You wait with the promise of the next dream.

I was grateful for cereal --- the only food that my tummy, riddled by pangs of infatuation, could handle.