me and the suspect

me: do you remenber the people who have loved you and made sacrifices for you or to be with you? i heard something disturbing today, doesnt matter what it was and it hit me that i should cherish

the suspect: i do. i remember many things about love and being loved. sometimes i'm silly about things like that, other times i enjoy love and loving

me: i'm not talking about cherishing you. idiot.

i'm talking about cherishing the people around me

and that was how i was totally cured of being disturbed by what i heard. what is it about the chinese saying that goes soomething like- to untie a knot you have to get the person who tied it.

bingo

just 2

i'm in love with 2 virgoans
one is much older
and the other is much younger

one is my therapist
and the other talks like my therapist

one is my therapist
and the other is my student,
ex student

one makes me cry
and the other makes me laugh
both see my failings and yet believe in the good of me

if i were deathly quiet

" i just want you to know that even if you were deathly quiet i'd still stand by you"

untitled

he sees beyond everything
sees the person i am and my failings
is sincere and makes me laugh

i would never want to break his heart

it functions

in the piano tuner of earthquakes, sexual tension is manoeuvred in such a way its suggestion became its own joke
years ago, my ex girl friend said i should see the return to the blue lagoon
the reason
sexual tension

is very interesting

many things in life that compel people to act in inexplicable ways out of inexplicable reasons are interesting too

what makes you wear a ridiculous smile

we had a rocky start of a conversation

this was not the effect of sexual tension but probably attraction tension

h said it was good to see me in the morning

me too

it was good to see you alone

so i could wave happily

and we got a little lost for words for a while

so i mentioned thunder that was sounding, god knows i'm fascinated by the sound

and h impersonated god too many times

he said

yes, my child

omg

yes, my child

omg

yes, my child

omg

it's eerie when you talk like my therapist

your therapist must be a very charming man

yeah but i said something that probably hurt him way before the upbeat turn of the conversation

his response was unexpected

i had to tell him before i slept

" hey, i have to tell you this before i sleep. i would love to go out with you no matter how old (or young) you are. it was just a stupid joke you know"

" ............ ..................................................................................................................................................... same here."

couplehood almost

we have slipped into a very comfortable companionship
away from the crowd
in a private apartment
with a great view i didnt bother to see
even with the binoculars
drinking bitter lemon and corona
watching dvd
great movie
great drinks
night driving
and thinking about something new to do next week
to be happy

another old familiar tune

he: so what have been up to lately?

me: i live life like a sleepwalker. my day job, weekend hangouts, no alarm and no surprises

he :but you took french didn't you

me: yeah 2 months

he: i picked up the guitar recently and you know when you can play a tune, you just wanna play more

me:'that's great, i'm glad you found guitar but i have no passion to live for

many weeks ago, i bumped into someone i used to see and we had supper with a mutual friend

he said he's sighted me a few times coz he couldn't missed me in a crowd

he said he could never reach me

i realized we could talk to each other like when we first started seeing each other and totally forget our mutual friend
about movies that defined our generation that torched the child-like wonder in him
of course we talked about adjani's movies, the epitome of tragic heroine
he thinks tragic and beautiful is very much like me and that still embarrasses me
it was great to see him again after ...a year or two, i can't be sure

it was the day that i met another ghost of the past
life has its way of reminding you the remains
of what might have been
and what remains not

and bad timing in general

le histoire lecon

le histoire d' Adèle H.

i didn't lie. i am only paradoxical. Pls don't ignore me.

Everyone has had a paragraph on waiting. From Barthes to the World. To the poignancy of cliches. As lately as chanel ceased. To wait.k copied the whole paragraph on a paper. Was the hand mad as it wrote? As he walked towards his car. What became clearer was her anguish.

"i'll wait for you among books and strangers". i could have forgotten that line. It seems like a long time ago. What kind of childish wilfulness had enabled me to sit there? Reading the unbearable lightness of being? Thank you for killing that.

The shop closed at page --. You never came. i went home. i took supper. Showered. And slept.

Then i gave C a message. She called almost at once. And started cursing. All i could say was- "it was not his fault".

"j, why me?"

"why not?"

"j, tell me you said that..."

that was a long time ago

No reason. i just liked you. Really really liked you. Not anybody else but you.

-----------------------------------

Tell me something good about the world.

'' you exist''

i do

and that's hard for me to reconcile with the world

but you will never get it

yesterday you had your lesson on waiting. not the first nor the last. not a stretch. how excited you were to to let me know you had arrived. how you sat through the lesson waiting for my reply. when i didn't, you asked to see my table, of course i was not there, you said nevermind and that you would just leave a note. you had to make it quick but your mind was rather blank in the presence of your guide and my neighbour. so the guide said she averted her eyes as it was not nice to see and asked me if i've seen the note today. and my neighbour said he thought you were a vendor and wondered how the hell you got passed the security to my table and why was the guide being a guide. he said you said nevermind, you would leave a note, tore a paper from your writing pad, wrote something, left it on my table and left. disappointment. can you write disappointment? perhaps you came in your favourite shirt. in this story, we shall always disappoint each other. i never told you the time you asked me if i've dreamt of you. i did. you were always in a room and i was outside. you refused to see me and i left. it recurred a few times 3 years ago.

i showed my neighbour your note. we laughed a bit at his misconjectures. sometimes at a strange point in life, you realize the irreversiblility of your actions, that you have wounded someone. at that point, i almost did. i apply my love with childish cruelty. and a lot of pride. "not anybody else but you". what i realized was, no amount of words would assauge the brunt and any true feelings i might let on my part would be translated as mind-fucking. irony. it's ok, you can take it. i can take it too. 2 years ago, my therapist said one day i would drive you away for good. i would be incurably sad, of course. or just sad.

you might drive me away first. i thought you did, many times.

point taken

"i 'm here"

many hours later

"i left before you came. med issue"

"nothing serious i hope"

"nothing serious about asthma. routine. i hope it kills me one day"

"yes it will kill you someday. could it be you became ill when you knew i was coming?"

"yeah, i timed myself with precision. and since you told me you were coming, i put away my favourite cards and pics lest you should chance upon my desk"

"be nice, asthmatic"

noteworthy

after being told that a note was left on my table.

me: did you see any male stranger near my desk?

kok meng: yes

me: describe a bit if you don't mind. appreciate.

kok meng: average height and a wide squarish face with short hair. middle age looks.

me: goodlooking? was he sneaky?

kok meng: not to my standard. sneaky seems to be

me: haha thanks, buddy. that's him. it's good to hear your perspective

kok meng: insignificant my perspective.

me: o it helps. to see him through your eyes. see you tomorrow.

hahaha

so i got a visitor like i was in a hospital, jail, mental institution, rehab, cementery
my visitor did not come bearing fruits or flowers or well wishes
my visitor did not come with flowers to lament the loss of my soul as it rots
at my cold tomb, since 2 weeks ago, i started constructing a book monument, it fell into 2 blocks as lately as today
if you visit someone dear in jail who refuses to see you, you leave a letter
and many many letters
and you visit and revisit

if you were around the vicinity for work and happen to drop by, you leave a note

i suppose

almost everything about you makes me smile

you tend not to take him seriously
laidback and juvenile
but sometimes he surprises you with simple truths
or his ability to say touching words that actually touches
and makes cynism seems, cynical
i wonder if i havent been a little unfair to him when i dissected his psyche under my own microscope

he reminds me of things i have forgotten that i have deliberately overlooked

cares a lot about how my hair looks, the last configuration

tells me it looks best pin up about five times phrased differently but somwhat similar due to the subject matter

the suicide notes that i found humorous are not so funny anymore
he makes me wonder at the dysfuntionality of black humor
how we've chosen to be cruel to ourselves
" you din't enjoy it?'"
"no, it was depressing"
" yeah"
" the people were really depressed when they wrote that"
yeah, of course i know the people were depressed but why didnt it mean anything to me until now

he talks to me patiently like a therapist
as you know i can be a hard nut
" are you a therapist?"
"no, i'm trying to understand your problem better."
"that's very nice of you"

in fact after some q and a, i realize perhaps i don't really have that big a problem with school
lately i have found the face of a colleague totally irksome
in response, he says one must never hate, as it only eats one up and makes one miserable
it just sound so true when he goes 'don't hate anyone'
'i just found him irksome'
yeah, i won't hate him then

" just dun do drugs and no suicide"
"hmmm"
"dun hmmm hmmm around here"
"ok"
and he goes on like an old man
you can see me smiling a lot there

"i'll cherish you"
i just kept smiling
then i realize what a nice thing it was that he just said that i didn't expect or even wish for

he really injects the idea of postivity into me
he hopes we would always be like that talking, for decades, to the next millenuem
at this point i wanna tell him when i go, he must forget me
but i don't because for once, i recgonised, that would be cruel


i will cherish you too

i am blessed

to have hm ard.... ok, and ke
almost everything you say makes me smile
that's a lot of smiling

i am lucky
to live and smile
everyday

i am glad
to have you around
everyone i love
(who loves me :)

"i will cherish you"
like ke said
it was simple and
child-like
he wouldn't like that

the thank you for smoking post
cheered me up
on the last day of vacation

and baby licking wire
and heat
how blessed i am to read about that
how blessed indeed

to see many beautiful moons to come

do what you want and fuck the rest

thank you for the post s s s

the biggest biggest biggest smile for hm

this man

as he turned to the bookshelves to get something


i regarded him


i realized that's his back

i've never looked at him like from a distance or as a stranger

why do i desire my therapist

why do i desire to be desired by my therapist

this man who cuts an awkward figure in his shirt

he probably thinks he cuts a swanky and young figure in his shirt and jeans

he probably thinks a white shirt and jeans is foolproof

i cant place why it doesn't look as good as it should

is it the cut, or his figure,... he's not fat

why do i not desire to be desired by a more desirable man

nevermind he has aged a lot

i cant help but notice the spots and lines

he is so pleased with himself

why do i need to be read by a person like that

"are you taking good care of yourself?"

yes

he is so full of himself

he probably prided himself on taking great care of himself

from his gastronomic preferences to using matching aftershave and eau de toilette

whatever

indeed we are pathetic

there is a murakami character marveled by the protagonist and one day he realized the marveled character lives in his own private hell. he fucked around, was rich and intelligent, had an unique opinion about literature but took pride in nothing. you can guess what happened to him

i do not want to deride what matters to me

you matter to me but i despise you

and i despise myself

the curious couch

ok, this isn't pornographic like the curious couch
but someone said that therapist is the rapist
before you read a compilation of categorized suicide notes,
the prologue tells you it is pornography to read people's innermost last thoughts
if you have time, you might want to check out stereo porno which doesn't sound as sexciting as it's termed

so i am going to start with the end of the session

at the end of the session
my therapist gave me the old friend hug
so he's like arms outstretched
and i moved to him like a block and let him envelope me
he failed to suffocate me but as a result of our height difference and the force of it
my lips were stamped on his neck, i briefly thought about rubber stamps and ink blots
in order to breathe, i had to hold him. away. at arm's length. and so exchanged byes and take cares.

what transpired earlier> some of the pointless things we also exchanged-

"you never tell the whole story straight but parts of the story. if you scratch the surface"

"what happened to x?blah blah blah"

me: it's y, not x, and it's a not b. are you so lousy with names?

"no, i remember people who are important to me. i remember your name."

"it is good that you are seeing someone so there's a sounding board"

me:i have a lot of friends

"but your friends are useless or you wouldn't be ......"

me: no they are not

" ok, what does he do?"

me : i dunno. i dun talk about people i see

" what's his name?"

me: i dunno

" you're kidding"

me: ok, do you want me to make up some name for you right now? would that be gratifying? why don't i ask him to come now?

"great. i would tell him he's,.....a fool"

then we talked about dreams and mostly nightmares involving animals and children
when i drew my breath as if to speak but halt he would go " yes, say" so encouragingly and patiently i wanted to laugh
and then he wanted to know about the person i was seeing again
at this point i decided to describe someone who has qualities that he doesn't possess

me: keith

" that's not his real name right? what does he do?"

me: his real name. he is nice, cute, interesting, healthy. he has natural rosy cheeks. he sends me songs on msn. and he's erm... really cute.

" are you sure it's not lust?"

me: maybe

" and he doesn't smoke?"

me: yeah. he's young.

" younger than you?18?"

me: younger than me.

me: ididn't quit smoking for him though he has asked me a few times"

" how did he ask?"

me: like won't you fucking quit smoking?

" that's very nice"

me: he says he wants to see me around for a little longer

"the next time i see you. you would be smoking, keith would be gone, and i'll be around."

(i was quite getting the hang of it by then. persuasion-seduction-persuasion-seduction....)


" so you were saying the person you are seeing is doing...?"

me: i didn't say anything about his occupation
( see how he tries to trick me at times)



"well, i'm happy for you. continue to take whatever you are taking. you look great. you used to look like a dopehead."

my therapist nurses political ambitions. has been invited to be a member, watching him self importantly describing his boheme image at the meeting, i could see through him, his shallowness and how he cannot escape the trappings of the neo bourgoise. intelligent, nevertheless but shallow.

we are pathetic.


man, i really feel like smoking after that session, for the first time since i quit 2 months ago,

and it's been more intense today
but friends are so encouraging
and today c said something " i never felt like she's quit."
that's different encouraging too.

the psychoanalysis of gifting

i like beautiful, useless, fanciful and whimsical things
i like strange perfumes and handcreams
i like books, book bag, book necklace, notebooks, bookmarks
i like bracelets and earrings
i collect haskell earrings and book objects
i like many things i guess
i like etat libre orange
i like the idea of your thoughts embodied in a gift,
i like a gift that is the result of your eliminating another object in its favor in favor of the addressee
i like a gift that you have chosen for moi
i like the thoughts behind a gift
i like an element of surprise
just for reference, for x'mas and for the rest of my life

gifts are supposed to make you feel happy
not uncomfortable
one man's bright idea is another's pain
i like to bang my head against the nearest pillar that day
and ask myself- " what is my fucking problem?"
looking at their pleased faces
the problem must be me
thanks and with apology
the blonde redhead you forgot to bring did the trick
but the others though in greater quantity did not

perhaps i want the impossible
in life
i am an ingrate
unworthy of my friends' kind attention
perhaps i have been spoilt by whimsical gifts enshrouded in romantic notions and metaphorical proportions
of a book bag or an apple belt
that knowledge, that poison apple
cannot unlearn that intrigue
life doesn't take those away
i need objects to sustain to amuse myself
objects to represent dreams

"everyone of us needs attention "

i know because N says everyone of us needs attention

because we need to feel special. or to escape, i think

we know because some attention are like gifts


the rationale of gifting is not some mandatory ocassion but rather a means to make someone feel special
do the gifts you recieved make you feel special?
have you ever recieved anything that make you feel special?

over

HOW IT BEGAN

" what is it about?"

" entrapment"

"what about entrapment?"

" the moment"

" define the moment"

" now"

everything has happened

the signs collided in rapid succession

the moment we fell in love


lately i lay in bed wondering why i fell for you in the first place and strangely,
that scene gained slowly in recollection like playing repeated foreign language
or a secondary account of first hand recounting
4 or 5 years ago
we must have been such fans of semiotics

i don't know how to break it to you
i saw it in a film the other day
the man text his lover- " forget me"
there are many useless words i can text-
we can't make it
forget it
or your name

so i skipped french

there are many things you can accomplish on a saturday noon if you decide to skip french
i went to the dematologist to get solutions for my sensitive skin, a rush, they close at 4pm
there are many things you can accomplish on a saturday noon if you friend also skips french
so we met impromptu, and i made my way to the malls.
she needed pants
i do not need anything
but what does it matter
she got herself 3 pairs of jolie pantalons
i got a black shirt and dress that happen to go well together
by way of faye wong's android in 2046 and bladerunner
it just means it's a little cyber and edgy with strong silhouette
bladerunner is a very important movie , the influences of which are archived in the collections of alexander mcqueen, especially evident in his earlier works
" you know, we skipped french but we have used our time wisely. we did retail therapy. which is more gratifying for the soul."
i remarked to her as i recalled benoit's face.
not quite a miss.

since i couldn't sleep last night i was thinking
so i skipped french.
it's not difficult to choose to do things that you are aware you are not supposed to do
so i'm cheating on you.
yeah, i cannot even begin to think of a reason.

ode to my 100-yr-old capelet

my 100 yr old capelet is back from the cleaner
it still smells strange
when it first arrived, it bore a note that says it's over 100 years old
now it is beautifully pressed with a healthy sheen
embossed velvet, like deep black on charcoal in floral or fruit motifs
if i wave to you or smoke, you would glimpse the lining
which is fuschia, like something unexpected out of darkness
an insignificant sign is the most unforgettable
like the story where the kid would be granted 3 wishes if he could forget the red of a red fox's tail, he gave his word without a thought but tried as he might, he was in pain as he could not get the red out of his head
the boy did not get his 3 wishes
i dreamt about the capelet twice before it arrived

it is so sad to mostly dream about losing your cats
your dreams are about your fears

perhaps it has travelled like the red violin
once it was someone's favourite capelet
perhaps it was stashed away and forgotten

now the girl who wears it feels like a mad princess or countess

spinning personal fiction

arsenic powder on her fingers

mr ash asked after his bento
i have arsenic powder on my fingers
i want to say they are fine

i do not want to say i've been rereading the introductory essay to madame bovary
i do not want to say, fried udon, tofu salad, cod fish with rice, teriyaki broccoli and tofu salad
not because i keep deliberating between udon and rice
not because they are already 3 weeks overdued

because your maid will cook according to the menu i decide for the bento
i want to say i can name something fanciful i can't cook
i want to sound insincere
i want to say i've lose interest in the bento

on pg 216, it says
il ne faut pas toucher aux idoles: la dorure en reste aux mains
we both know
i'll never cook for you

each time we turn our immaculate napkin rings
the ironic transposition of our separate existence
catches
how could you believe in the bento?
i want to say something that i can cook

we must not touch our idols: the gilt sticks to our fingers

you can smell my fingers

i can't say

the aquarium moment

it's cliche but true
how the world is reduced to just the couple who have eyes only for each other
the other day, i had my unexpected aquarium moment
the room was full of people
you knelt down to my seat
and your face was close
you had lots to say from your eyes
but there wasn't much content in your words
i was attracted by and overcome with wonder
to see the life aquatic in those clear orbs
you said goodbye but you followed me to the other room that was not empty
i was amused and urged you to go
but i looked into your eyes and see the fishes swimming
and you were looking for the fishes in my eyes too
i wanted to tell you that it was a colorful world
i thought i was too cynical to see again
and that i knew you were going to

kiss me

"i want to be seduced"

sorry, i think if i laugh out loud it would be very offensive

so i keep the silence awkward

the bento

on monday he goes to work. he whistles on his way to the jingle of the keys in his pocket. as usual he greets his colleagues at the elevator. today, he thought , he find these commsumate fools strangely more endearing. he is thinking of something they don't know or have no access to. a world that exists beyond the arid office. to which he feels insulated by this secret knowledge. it is a breeze to lunchtime. he finds himself in the company of mice and men again. that in honest truth, he makes no effort to avoid. sometimes, he even appears to be basking in their attention. without insuferable nimcompoops, you would not discern sufferable ones. he is still thinking about his promised lunchbox when he realizes that it has a metacognitive effect. it is no freudian slip. he is aware that it might have been an intentional attempt to bridge his physical world with his interior monologue, a lapse between reality and surreality. experience and imagination. with all the trappings of desiring an ethereal thing that could or should never be converted to something tangible. it is not physical. he has said it, "i would like to have udon''. the bento is aphysical. perhaps not even one of his lunchmates heard. they do not have to be interested. the udon would be in the bento that his petite amie would prepare for him. not because it is the only dish she knows how to cook, he is hopeful. it is the knowledge that he could be happier. the knowledge of being able to see another world that exist beyond obligations and duties. even if that knowledge does not serve as an option. options are annihilations of something safe when you've reached a cetain age and acquired certain asserts and cynism. between work and home, he oscillated between content and discontent. he could be happier. he knows. it is enough to know and somtimes it is not enough to know at all. the bento is not an object. it is not a promise. it is an objectified vision of your discontent and desire.

he hates it when she goes into theoricizing and the conditioning of human psyches

at last

usually

at first

if we stay away from each other

ít's not difficult
life goes on, i see my friends and some romantic intrigues here and there
days pass like that
and a day job of banal duties and amusing young adults
and sometimes friendships are found
and i no longer ask what's the point
what's the point of asking

if i stay away from you if i pretend not to hear you
i could go on like that
most of the times i don't reply
but once in a long while
i need to say your name to you
i need to hear you say 'J?'
and that would do
until you no longer beg me to talk

but last nite, i said a little more. "do you like the cd i sent?"

"i do. are you alright?"

i am not alright but that's alright. "yes. just wanna hear your voice"

"these days, i'm finding it hard to hear my voice"

i feel unsympathetic. "listen to yourself."
......

i don't think of you much and your voice no longer makes my heart skip
but sometimes when i hear it, it makes me want to weep
i wonder why
so i sent you the cd you asked for
a week late
but that's fine
everything good in life comes too late
i told myself if i never send it would be like you've never asked
but i did and signed off as trevlkovsky

i felt very depressed after talking to you
and saw keith on msn
i told him i was very depressed and not to reply
he did and said some amusing and uplifting stuff
and never pressed me for the reason
i told him i'm old enough to die
he said it's the lamest shit he's ever heard as i'm one of the youngest around
i said i thought last year that 30 is high time to go, how long and how low can the lows get?
and he said i look too young to be 30 soon and that this is one of those times that truth doesn't hurt...
i said smoking and drinking helps....
he said he's sure i would find the point of living
it sounds like crap but it worked
"sorry to bleed my guts on you"
"that's ok, i'm such a good listener. you should have a good rest."

that's keith, talking like our age gap has reversed its poles

the classmates

alix
stefanie
alix's plump friend whose name i can't recall
audrey and ramond
just to name a few
in the way that veronique is veronica
to help the pronunciation
they are all chinese

at the entrance, alix, who looks at me with bright eyes shaded by a veil of dark lashes
said " hi, you were not here last week. you were sick? how are you?"
me: yeah, fine, thanks. (killing my fag. first attempt at conversation)
he turned to open the door
and i rolled my eyes at veron behind his back
to which i realized the glass door have reflected

alix the looker who looks like the good looking tvb actor
not very likeable for me as he's too enthu and hardworking in class and sometimes answers too eagerly
i'm a slacker
i'm into slackers are are born good and can't help being so without even working at it

after les paux
the lift opened and the said classmates were inside
in the lift, alix's plump friend asked," you were sick last week?"
" i was just feeling lazy"
she kept quiet and i could feel alix's bright eyes
they sure have chemistry
she sounded like she was on her deathbed when the teacher tested her on conversation

my classmates are fine
the lesson was good, i was not tired
and i'm getting used to the teacher, yusoff

mon francaise professor

as he was addressing us
he began to fumble for a marker to make his point on the board
his hand moving on the table and in his sac
a short moment that seemed an eternity
then he found it and it fell under the table and rolled

je regarde il
he seemed like an old man searching for his marker
endearingly pathetic and goofy
though he's not that old and he doesn't look french

he picked it up
he wrote something on the board

i was smoking during les paux
when his face appeared out of the blue much like how hm had taken me by surprise 2 days before
anyway he said something about say gar yart (cigarette) and something else which he tried to illustrate by pointing to his head
so my teacher repeated that with different emphasis each time pointing to my fag and his head, enunciating the words
and my eyes got wider as i tried to make sense from his mouth to his hand
then he said in anglais- " cigarettes help you think"
started away, then turned around and said "" i hope it helps you think in french"
hahas
how unfortunate, it was supposed to be a smart line
if i had understood instantly and he didn't have to repeat

thank you for the tiramisu

i left it in the fridge and ate it on wednesday
and the loveliest smile
what a surprise!

time is running out

i made a compilation for myself instead
the more i listen to it the more sardonic it sounds

the dark rim of his eyelashes

late that night he said, make me a a perversely romantic cd

i closed my eyes and sleep

my heart did not beat violently i like such tasks

thinking about songs

or what it sounds like to lie there cold and dead in a forest near a lake, waiting for the someone to discover your corpse, knowing if he doesn't come, your soul will decompose. or just lie there cold and dead on the beach behind the rocks like laura palmer while the sheriff wept and unwrapped the plastic.

i thought, but all the romantic cds i made you are perverse and all the perverse, romantic

indignant,

i shook my head.

yes, i admit i make awesome compilations for my favourite shirts

recoil is out, too literal a dramaturgy

composing the dark rim of his eyelashes, it would have to be

some sounds from le locataire, elephant soundtrack, bow wow wow aphrodisiac, who knows, some beethoven- lettre a elise, au clair de lune, pathetique....something deliberately cliche, or sweeping nat king cole




and turen de wahrnehmng has to be in as it sounds like what a drown ophelia heard, underwater.

for ash who needs my shoulder

we sent each other stories

it's easier than answering 'how are you?'

when the cause of something like pain ask.

here goes

a man worked in a departmental store, handling complaints daily.
one day, a letter, not much different from the other complaints, moved him particularly.
he brought it home, analyzed the grammar, puntuation marks etc.
unfolding, reading, mulling, folding, unfolding, reading , you get the idea.
he began to compose a personal reply to her everyday.
and everyday, he did not send.
he did not know what she looked like.
he suspected he want to sleep with her.

who do you love?

a girl met a man at a party
she recognized him to be a misogynist at once
as he spoke he gripped her wrist so hard he left 4 bruises
" who do you love?"
" my cousin is going to be a nun. there is no one to touch her."
" i despise my therapist. the rapist."