49
Life is the spaces between.
Anything fixed is false. Appearances
approximate the things from which they
emanate; so I hesitate to write to you.
Name it and it's somewhere
else. How
can you spell a tree? What can you
say about you
and me-that we stood on
shaky ground when last met? And yet--I
firmly expect to share the embrace of reaf-
firming laughter in your face tomorrow and
forever after.
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London
July 1985