In the heat, I find it hard to compose.
...
Sometimes I can almost see what it is she sees, when she looks at me.
I don't quite get it; I don't quite understand what it is she's marvelling over, or what it is that makes her smile.
Someone asked me the other day, what it was I had done to her.
She's happy, they said. You made her happy.
How did you do that?
...
"You know, it's almost as if your journal has been following
a pattern, the last few months."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It's like, 'I am
searching for beauty, I am
looking for hope, I am
horribly depressed'.'"
"Oh."
"I think I liked your older stuff better."