We occupied a universe composed of one room in one season: my bedroom on weekday afternoons. As time went on, we occupied this universe more and more fully. Hunger multiplied on hunger, desire on desire. We couldn’t get enough. Because we didn’t get enough. I was always wanting more. “Not more,” a friend said evenly. “Enough. You want enough.” In a year or two I realized that it wasn’t exactly more I wanted, or even enough. It was a larger world for our feelings to walk about in.
