sometimes i wonder if maybe everyone is whistling along with my tune and i can feel that out here and away
somehow there's more to it all
"many people who appear physically in the actual world are not at home in it but are at home in that other world...
The image i have of her hovers indefinitely somewhere between her actual and her ideal form.
what pleasure is there in love if absolute abandon is not intrinsic
to it?
die eine ist verliebt gar sehr
die eine vare es gerne"
(from seducers diary, comic credit jeff kilpatrick)
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