You are who you choose to be.

Show him every dawn & read to him endlessly.

He was his own leftover, the spat-out scrag. He was what his brain could make nothing of.

You could become internationally famous - you're Gemini, and according to antique authority have a literary talent, which of course your letters prove.

So we found the end of our journey. So we stood, alive in the river of light, Among the creatures of light, creatures of light.

There is no better way to know us Than as two wolves, come separately to a wood.

The real mystery is this strange need. Why can't we just hide it and shut up? Why do we have to blab? Why do human beings need to confess?