...and we are sticky sweet, not from the seasons and their change, but from 75 bodies packed so loosely together that in turn, we are all one body.

In my dreams, the ones that have returned to me at night, I sleep in the corner of a star, holding in my hand my blue stars in the height of their beauty.

I forgot the words to that song I always used to sing. Why don't they visit me anymore? I forgot, I simply forgot, that's all. It's as if they are of no importance to me, those words, someone else's words. How do they transpose their slinky thoughts into nouns, verbs, and such so that I may feel too? It's a mystery to me, I know it.

Still, many have visited these writings and not acknowledged my request inquiring as to why those of you who read do so. Please, it's not about numbers in the guestbook, it's about my wanting to know. And cripes, don't sign the guestbook...send an email or leave a note. I'm getting uneasy about having this public. But thank you Emily and Matt for signing. It made me smile some.