Do you wake up as I do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? There is a second of consciousness that is clean again. A second that is you, without memory or experience, the animal warm and waking into a brand new world. There is the sun dissolving the dark, and light as clear as music, filling the room where you sleep and the other rooms behind your eyes.

There is no sense in loving someone you can never wake up to except by chance.

Explore me' you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know.

When I fell in love it was as though I looked into a mirror for the first time and saw myself.

The rebellion of art is a daily rebellion against the state of living death routinely called real life.

I have no idea what happens next.

It may be that you are settled in another place it may be that you are happy but the one who took your heart wields final power.