As A Writer, You Live In Such

I Killed Her Once And Died For Her Many Times

I Did Love Her. I've Loved Her From The First Time I Saw Her.

The Ocean Was The Best Place, Of Course. That Was What She Loved Most. It Was A Feeling Of Freedom Like No Other, And Yet A Feeling Of Communion With All The Other Places And Creatures The Water Touched.

When She Is Happy, She Can't Stop Talking, When She Is Sad She Doesn't Say A Word.

They Were Here All At Once, But Not Together. Survival Took Self-absorption, And It Made Them Strangers With Nothing To Do And No Way To Relate. Emergencies Gave You A Shape And A Plot To Take Part In, While Death Was No Story At All. It Left You Nothing.