35: Your slightly shabby rooms are elegant.


A scent of acacia and soft frangipani, but not a trespass.


You are a triumph.

Don’t worry about past comparisons. Done. Gone.
I’ll bring up your love of skiing and your playing chess against yourself, may I?
It makes sense at that, loving you is civil war — sensual to a fault —

Roses, grieve no more.. nor silver fountains, clouds and eclipses!

Good-bye everything.