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Our earthly loves are but so many silver steps leading us up to the great golden love of God.

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Marguerite Duras

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

Time, Work, Way, Waste, Fill
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I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. How could I know this city was tailor-made for love? How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How unlikely. I like you. How slow all of a sudden. How sweet. You cannot know. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. I have time. Please, devour me. Deform me to the point of ugliness. Why not you? Why not you in this city and in this night, so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? I beg of you.

Body, Good, I Like You, Night, Sweet

A book consists of two layers: on top, the readable layer. . . and underneath, a layer that was inaccessible. You only sense its existence in a moment of distraction from the literal reading, the way you see childhood through a child. It would take forever to tell what you see, and it would be pointless.

Book, Childhood, Children, Distraction, Inaccessible, Reading

I've known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you're more beautiful now than then. Rather than your face as a young woman, I prefer your face as it is now. Ravaged.

Beautiful, Thinking, Years, Think, Everyone

Very early in my life it was too late.

Too Late, Late, Life, Early

The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken.

Body, Language, Long, Memories, Visited
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