Nathan’s rules were, ‘no orgies, no meat’. So, no cock, no comfort.
I wasn’t anxious about crashing, but about landing.
I’d ask myself, How did I get here? How did this happen? then remember, and forget again, and carry on like everything was normal, which of course it was.
He’d tell me fragments about himself, but not much more. He was like a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle to which I’d only found the corners.
I have a memory of a group of us dancing on a pontoon on the lake one Friday night that I think about if ever I need to reduce my blood pressure.
“You’re in the land of Zion,” now, he shouted, “you’re in the land of the Jews!” He was obviously a lunatic, but I didn’t want to back down.
On my birthday I go to an exhibition. Its themes are: death, separation, misery, gloom. Everything but fun. Perfect!
He said he’d had a headache, and had to pack, but I knew that it was love that had made him a liar.
At the launderette, an elderly man took off his trousers, put them into the dryer without washing them. He sat on a chair and offered me a cigarette.
Nathan imagines they’d be caught and, besides, the man may be a serial killer, so suggests the cruising park behind the Hilton instead. Much safer.
She lies on a rug with Alberto, they are playful with each other, then nap, their bodies touching, like incestuous twins.