July 3rd, 2002 - 1:23 a.m.

Thoughts of a midnight walk home.

Three rectangular spots of damp light line up in vertical formation, stretching into the treeline. They seem to speak, in a silent language.

The echo of foot falls is too much to bear, tears are choked back, the face down, away from any source of lighting.

The secret braille code of skin. Preoccupies all thought.

Am in an awful state, but am buoyed. Head above water, dear. Breathe. Never forget to breathe. Oxygen is, after all, somewhat precious to that human brain of yours.

Ah, you would like to rant about misunderstandings. Mais non. That would be no fun at all.

Instead, I think I will lose myself in love.

N.

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