April 23, 2006

Whirlwind trip to London … I surprised her as she walked through the front door late at night after she biked in the rain, and she screamed delighted as she leaped into my arms. Questions … Kisses … “What are you doing here, crazy?”

Her lips were cold from the night, and grains of sand made their way into her underwear, like they always do when she goes out biking in the rain … We took care of both problems, our bodies swirling across the dishevelled bed, ecstatic.

Touch is sublime. And so are mornings, and ware rabbits, and the smell of sizzing pig for breakfast early in the afternoon.