July 21st, 2002 - 4:57 p.m.

Moments in between, sealed under cellophane and masking tape, in a jar, on the window ledge.

In between muted foot falls on a stifling summer walk in the breeze, fingers between fingers, a scrap of paper mimics the uneven sound of a stranger�s steps.

In between awake and asleep, when one thinks of suicide as the last resort to escape the humiliation of possible failure, and methods of.

In between heated poignant mathematical breaths against the cheek, the depth and scope (width multiplied by length, multiplied by height) of a kiss, seemingly stolen, perfect.

In between a blink, the coloured lighted circle that danced with gaiety behind the eyelids.

In between the beginning and the end, the look in the eyes, the pulsing of the surface of the skin, the roughness of the small of the back.

In between simplicity and complexity, we sleep.

In between asleep and awake, disoriented, the smell of skin, the pebbly bed sheets.

In between now and never. "Try not to think about it."

N.

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