Sunday, February 08, 2004


Since August, my life has changed. I used to see it stretching before me, a vast plain, uninterrupted, rolling miles of similarity that I called sanctuary; but now it is as though I walk in mist, in shadow, and what is in front of me remains a mystery, as though there is no floor until my foot touches down, no next day until I awaken to it, shiny and secret and unknown, a permanent edge I am forever stepping off of, into midair -- an explorer in my own life, Marco Polo and the treacherous edge of the world. The only thing catching me, giving this new world substance, is him. And this is love. This is what it means to love him. And all my life I have waited for this not-knowing, this uncertainty.

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