my darling,
I'm waiting for you.
How long is a day in the dark?
Or a week?
The fire is gone now

and I'm horribly cold.
I really ought to drag myself outside,
but then there be the sun.
I'm afraid I waste the light...
on the paintings and on writing these words.

We die, we die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers, fears we have hidden in like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. We are the real countries, not the boundaries drawn on maps with names of powerful men. I know you will come and carry me out into the palace of winds, that\'s all I\'ve wanted- to walk in such a place with you, with friends, on the earth without maps.