I'm probably so out of it at my age that I don't know what people think.
I did not know him, I knew my idea of him.
Maybe in order to understand sex fully/one has to risk being destroyed by it.
Once you lose someone it is never exactly the same person who comes back.
My poems - I don't even like the sound of that, in a way. Not that anyone else wrote them. But we know that only people who are really close to us care about our personal experience.
Maybe we can use a metaphor for it, out of dance. I think for many years I was aware of the need, in dance and in life, to breathe deeply and to take in more air than we usually take in.