Wait, for now. Be’ wary of all if you have to. But trust hours. Do not they have perhaps taken anywhere, up to now? Personal events you will again interesting. The hair will get interesting. The pain will be interesting. The buds that open off season get interesting. Used gloves you will again pretty; their memories are what gives them the need of other hands. The desolation of lovers is the same: that huge empty proceeds from beings so small as we are, asking to be filled; the need of new love is faithfulness to the old. Wait. Do not go too early. Are you tired. But everyone is tired. But no one is quite tired. Just wait a bit ‘and listen: hair music, music of pain, music looms that weave back our loves. Be’ there to hear it, will be the one time, more than anything to hear your whole life, repeated from the pains, acting herself right to the end.
