I don’t fear the darkness because I have learned what lives there: the restlessness of our souls who yearn for an understanding of what makes the heart sing. We dance underneath the dark velvet sky that reminds us of the navigation we do not see in the daytime. I’m wearing my favourite hoodie and mismatched socks while you’re in your favourite trackies (the ones with the hole in the left knee and the hems are shredded). We each have a cup of tea in our hand and the conversation is caught in a freeze frame like a dandelion in mid-explosion where the fireworks of our fantasies are drawn from our hearts. Yesterday, you bought me passion, a bouquet of irises (although a cut stem surely dies), and I wore the paper wrapping as an overcoat before you removed it and made me stand naked in the vase. You stood in the vase with me and embraced me to form a second completeness in addition to the wholeness we hold in our own space, and that in the withdrawing from the embrace, we feel the absence of the other in the lack of physical touch and yearn again for the spiritual delight of a physical unity. You always ask me before we leave the house if I have a handkerchief for emergency occasions.
A Fullness in Brevity - Adam Byatt 