Thursday, December 20, 2007

He switched off the television with his toes, from the wicker chair. I patterned my diary entries with the titles of the books I love, La Belle Creole, and the headings of my days, San Francisco, Dear San Francisco.

They slept on the bed next to me for so long. After we cleaned up our mess. We swept the floors and we washed out our mouths. Han's sleepy, curled up in a pile of clothes. I wrote over my words. I traced the letters with my fingers. We didn’t eat. We forgot to eat. We said, we are not hungry. We spoilt our appetite.

We walked through the woods. We said, we will not carve our names into trees and there were forget-me-nots but we did not pick them. We drove back to Katie's through the city and we were tired.