At night, lying on your back and staring at the falling snow, it's easy to imagine oneself soaring through the stars.

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.

Which is scarier-- lust or temptation?

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

Shame is always easier to handle if you have someone to share it with.

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.

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".