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January 20, 2008
There hangs a painting on my wall and it excites me. It shouts in happy reds and yellows, greens and blues and its thick black lines drawn as if with childrenís hands hold more mystery and maturity than any text or transcript. I like to look at it and remember. And when I canít remember, which is most of the time, I create and make believe which always seems to retain more magic. Mostly I think of you and where we came from. Love can seem such a dangerous beast. Iím so glad I overcame my fear of losing you.