Such a lovely night out. It’s raining - it has been all day, but all the more beautiful is rain at night. I’m looking outside the window now, just watching the drops fall evenly, scattering over the damp ground, and I can’t help but wish for someone to share it with. It’s something to share. From all I’ve come, I realize that one desire, above others. How content I would be, if only I could. There are so many things to share. The gentle rain that’s falling now, the damp breeze blowing in from the window, the blackness of the night sky. The way each leaf and blade of grass glistens. It’s peaceful to be here now, alone. Where are you? I know you exist, I’ve even imagined I’ve met you before. It’s peaceful to be alone - are you alone tonight too? I hope so. So you can enjoy the weather, the world. It’s lovely tonight. I wonder, and are you wondering, I can only help but think, where I am, too? Are you thinking of me, as I stare outside, into the vast expanse of nothingness that envelops the earth tonight? I imagine perhaps you are, and it’s an entertaining thought, encouraging. I can’t wait for the day, when I can be alone, and you can be alone; but we can be alone together. In the rain I hope. Will I ever find you, or you me? Will you recognize me when we do? Will I know it’s you? I imagine that I will. I hope and pray that I will. I might say I’m alone tonight, but you’re with me, I know. Somewhere. Attached by some celestial string, a corde entre coeurs, and it’s painful sometimes to feel the tug of that chain upon my heart. Every time you move I feel it; it is taut. Will the length ever slacken, or will I feel this pull forever? Tell me, corazón, if you know. I am impatient, I know, but I have no shame in saying that I hope our distance lasts not much longer. Adieu for now, amour, and please don’t be too long. Te extraño.

Candles. Only in the dark or poorly-lit. Fireplaces, smoke, smouldering coals and dancing flames. The sound of burning, snapping logs in the winter. Snow, in the first hour before the people wake. So clean and elegant. Pure. Rain, and the sound of its falling - gently or pouring, torrenting wildly down. Mist, and the cool, tingling feeling on the skin. Fog. The delight of total enclosure and dampened sounds. Dead leaves on the ground, and falling all around, floating slowly, serenely down. Glistening ice on branches. The moon glowing softly down at night. Keeping watch.

The ocean. The feel of sand sifting through my toes with every step. Seashells scattered carelessly along the shore. Salty beach air invading my lungs. Cleansing. Water splashing smoothly, licking the sand, dissolving sandcastles. Angrily. Smashing against the rocks, throwing me into its depths. Defeating and being defeated. Palm trees swaying listlessly in the dry summer heat. Rainbow sunsets and sunrises, dazzling the skyline with soft, brilliant tones. Soft and brilliant.

Competition, a challenge. Love, love. Aces. Down the line. The solid feel of a good shot. Good form. Racing heart, sprinting. Scramble to reach the ball. The pace of it, reactions. Always reacting. The excited, calculated feel of an overhead shot. Rush to the net. Chaos. Sprint to the ball, passes, triangles, calculations and endurance. The constant war of strategy and shifting tactics. Footwork. Goals. Saves. The team.

Dancing. The music, the rhythm. A mirror to the heart, thumping, beating. The notes. Mathematical precision. Emotion. Equations. Movement. The slow, calming undulations. Rushing, speeding, faster. Alive. It makes me so alive. Emotions, emotions. Crystallized in rhythm, movement, words. Company. Long walks leading nowhere. Walking and talking. Or silence. Sometimes silence speaks best. Comfort. The feel of another against my skin. The warm touch, breath, another life, but the same. Embrace. So soft and lovely. Love.

My God, I love to love.