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In the beginning is the ending is always the middle is floating forever ever never in all there where who can tell is anywhere is not imagining all of it, bits of ego, id and libid o such as we supposing symphonies of orbiting cellos playing the music, an
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107100
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In our first conversation, she tells me love is a dragon: she has come across it’s destruction, hears of it’s size, mythology, of it’s immorality. I sip my hot cocoa (God, I pray she thinks it is coffee)...
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He wanted to say the waves were colossal, but part of him didn’t want to scare them. He liked them being brave. He liked them being fearless.
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“Are you familiar with the Mammalian Diving Reflex?”
“Yes. When the face comes in contact with water below the temperature of, what, 60 degrees—”
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His left hand is still clutching the blue Bic lighter in his pocket, rubbing it slowly but firmly. Anticipation is building, filling Theodore up like a combustible gas inside of a too-small container.
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