The lines of our love touch like the delicate threads of a web. The ends are intertwined and attached to a solid substance unseen and unknown. This is our belief. The surface we live on is tenuous as ice, fragile as glass, and exposing. We move gently over the mirrored images, watching our reflections, careful of each step. While lying naked under thin sheets, we whisper to one another and search the open depths of our eyes. Our words travel like rumors in the wind.
