My sparrow, she flickers and wakes and sings and sings.

The song is languid and speaks of love and loneliness and loss. Why does love seem to go with the sad things?

It should begin with friendship, I think. Suddenly I cannot look at him. It should begin with friendship and truly knowing who a person is, knowing his flaws and hopes and strengths and fears, knowing all of it. And admiring and caring for- loving the person because of all of those things... I know that now.

Love is a tempestuous mistress. And none of us shall ever master her.

As I say the words, I realize how true they are. And maybe that's the trick to getting through it, through life: realizing that everybody, including ourselves, is lugging around some kind of screwed-up baggage. Maybe we are put here to help each other carry the loads.

What place does a woman have here, in the realm of men?

My sparrow, she flickers and wakes and sings and sings.