This wonderful woman didn’t become part of my dream until last year sometime. I never thought this kind of environment could produce one like her, but at the same time I knew that things never could be good with me without her.
But I promised not to be bash with you. It’s crazy, all women, even the very phenomenal, want at least a promise of brighter days, bright tomorrows. I have no tomorrows at all. The worst thing that could have ever happened to the woman in the dream was letting me touch her. I’ll tell you the whole thing if we can ever find somewhere to relax… . Until then I promise not to bore you. You probably hear these devotions all day, and with your incentive factors they’re probably all sincere devotions. Let me heap mine on you (with these pitiful little strokes of the pen) for the last time (unless seized by ungovernable impulse) with a statement made at the risk of seeming immodest; but I am modest and I hope that it is righteous for me to feel that — no one, and much more meaningful no black, wherever the hurricane has washed up his broken body, no one at all, can love like I.
