I know. I know that I shall never again meet anything or anybody who will inspire me with passion. You know, it's quite a job starting to love somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, blindness. There is even a moment, in the very beginning, when you have to jump across a precipice: if you think about it you don't do it. I know I'll never jump again...
....
But I probably will.
Is that resilience? Or plain stupidity?
Time whizzes by and I, I write of glimpses I steal
