Slept well last night. Solitude at home is good, really good for me. But perhaps what it really is ain’t solitude. It’s being together with a person you actually click with. You know, where things can be unsaid, not out of repetitive habit and duration but because – the very first time – it just seemed right. And then on and on into the beyond. And this leaving things unsaid isn’t leaving things unfinished. It’s just such a sign of compatibility that – like something open-sourced about the humanity you end up sharing – nothing is owned, nothing is assumed, nothing becomes a chattel; nothing, and no one. And respect is total. And love, too. And life, without a doubt.
* Love you very much; more than I can say – and I do say a helluva lot, and I do say it every day. But even so, and even in your absence, and even in the jack-of-all-lacks I so often have been – well, even so, I love you very very much.