But in love each moment is magnified, and every gesture, word and syllable is examined like a speech by the President.

My pleasures disappeared with my vices.

Falling in love was simple; one had only to yield. Digesting another person, however, and sustaining love, was bloody work, and not a soft job.

One would hope, as well that intimacy would leave more of a mark, that more of it would remain. But it doesn’t. You just end up thinking, who is this person?

Dear God, teach me to be careless.

These days everyone was insisting on their identity, coming out as a man, woman, gay, black, Jew - brandishing whichever features they could claim, as if without a tag they wouldn’t be human.

But in love each moment is magnified, and every gesture, word and syllable is examined like a speech by the President.