that same power, I like it. Dangerous-- stealing words on every side, shaping phrases. No one can teach you to move deeply, to suffer spontaneous and joyful, locked away with only your enthusiasm and time.
Forgetting and losing until it shows-- flock folk don't deserve this bleak pleasure. Tired. It's near enough flat-out-unbearable, mistakes you've had around for ages. Difficult, but dear. Dear and intimate as you allow.