Just call me 'Rosy Chapstick.'

I'll mention only a thought. (Besides that i'm not feeling like writing right now, having after all to scoot off in only a few minutes...)

What if we dictated our love, loud and clear, to an invisible audience? How shall it seem? How honest; how distinct?

I read such a blessedly forgiving book by Humbert Wolfe days ago, all in one sitting. It was a work of collected and interwoven poems called Requiem. It was unbelievably beautiful, and chockful of some base type of understanding... (d'you understand?)

Ah well.  One must nonetheless try.

Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (8/20/07)