2004-07-12 at 5:57 p.m.
The vastness of nothingness is creeping over, overwhelming me, and yet I chose this.
The conversation is intoxicating. We're drunk on words, the vastness of the day yielding to evening, and the quiet shuffle of pedestrians who pass us. I steal a glance at my watch and it's been three and a half hours, everything is an interlude - we weave half finished stories wrapped tightly around each other, you'll remind me of something I said 45 minutes earlier, a sentence left unfinished, a story left untold. This process of unfolding and unfolding again, it's as if there is something at the core that if we keep unwrapping and unravelling, we might get to.
I miss you.