transform past as much as the silence of intense emotion is attractive and pulls me in, the middle ground stays stable, whole, and encompassing. the passages from the_silence_of_nothing to the songs of our lives open, curve upon themselves, and while still fostering my confusion with the object of her physicality who is (being my self and in my mind at least) displaced (or, perhaps, misplaced) i can move forward with this as something more stable, with more potential to last and mean more than a flash in the pan whose only purpose is injury and shame. also, i'm going to have to tell her before she leaves that she is a bit too flirty with her body language, at least towards me (and, in my experience, no one else), and that i mean what i say (as if she had any doubts). 080808 what's it to you? who go blather from