It was one looked that got me, juxtaposed with a cinematic pear sitting on an imaginary table. I didn't know his name. But I knew his sensation & I decided that was enough. The first encounter always begins with the end. A memory that I play back in reverse. I loved his hands. They were knew to me. It's been said that the eyes are the window to the soul. But hands, can touch you.

This was the small beginning of my life expectancy. Everything else that preceded, was just prebirth. How do we know when we have arrived? How do you fit the scope of the possibility in a moment? When and where and how does it all take place?

My consciousness defies geography. I've made time my home. This is where I keep everything. This is where my wings will grow old, and this is where our first house was built. This is where your first son contracted leukemia. & see that window over there? That's where my eyes flew when I found out you were leaving. & right over here, is my special place. It's the kitchen. A tree once grew here. & that counter top over there, is where you made me into a geisha.

At the corner I see Yoshimoto's ghost. We smile at each other, like two pair of Doves, that have traveled the world. At the end of the journey I always find myself here. Sitting on a chair with an imaginary pear lying on the table. You smile to me like it's just the beginning.