Perhaps there is no greater pleasure than to live two hours out of twelve in a different world. It is like love at first sight – if the author is just right. An eye blinks, a muscle shifts, and I am glad to be under the spell. The sky brightens behind the glass, room swirling with the fragrance of my lover’s words like a sweet colored smoke.
Maybe here, now, we forget each other and ourselves. We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole, a knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous. We think the world imagined is the ultimate good. It is in that thought that we collect ourselves.