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Some people come to the Park because they want to fall in love for the first time, the twelfth time, the final time.
The Park is a beating heart, an adagio, a dreamy parenthesis.
They come to honor the one they will always love, especially on October 17 when it’s as if the leaves are singing HALLELUJAH AMEN and they can throw them in the air and feel them on their body like whispers.
You remember even now: yama, niyama, asana, pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, samadhi.
middle of an argument: How would we survive? You said that you thought that we had different understandings of survival.
I remember feeling like we could do anything, if we did it together.
My focus was elsewhere. I didn’t know what I was doing, only that I didn’t want to lose you.
The difference between dialogue and conversation is that one you can take back.
you were just getting into literature, and it was just beginning to save your life. In a way, it is as though he understands you better than anyone.
And, he says, smiling. Happiness is fleeting anyway, isn’t it?
