It's not melancholy, not a longing of the heart--actually, it feels the opposite. If I had to describe it, I might say uncomfortable silence, fragments in frames, solitary, without need. I desire, not to create peace, but to take peace, not to be in love, but to be love. Yesterday I wanted a hand to hold, and today I hold my own--rain outside and everything.
Something's coming all right, like nothing I've known. It resembles heaven on earth, it only feels a little like hell.