Finished
Woodstock is 907 days old
Blondie and Dagwood are 372 days old
As written in The Black Book:
I saw her again today. Once again, the encounter happened by pure chance. She was sitting by the stairs near the entrance in 623 S. Wabash with a female friend. This time, at least, I recognized her and stopped to talk.
It was a brief conversation, mostly full of standard bland pleasantries which mean (or say) absolutely nothing. Yet at the end I did do something worthwhile. I apologized for leaving her at State/Lake so abruptly on June Second. (I didn’t attempt to give her an explanation of my actions for as much of the fact that she was not alone as that it would be too complicated to even try.) She seemed not to recall the incident in any case.
It was only then that I came to truly realize the truth of the matter. In the three years (almost three years) that I have carried her in my heart she has become idealized, perfected. There was absolutely no way reality could ever compare with the fantasy. She would have always ever come up short against the perfect version I carry with me. But then again, seeing her face to face was the end of the dream. The reality had shattered it.
The reality could never compare with the dream and the dream could not exist when confronted with the reality. They annihilated each other and I need no longer to go on counting.
Blondie and Dagwood are 372 days old
As written in The Black Book:
I saw her again today. Once again, the encounter happened by pure chance. She was sitting by the stairs near the entrance in 623 S. Wabash with a female friend. This time, at least, I recognized her and stopped to talk.
It was a brief conversation, mostly full of standard bland pleasantries which mean (or say) absolutely nothing. Yet at the end I did do something worthwhile. I apologized for leaving her at State/Lake so abruptly on June Second. (I didn’t attempt to give her an explanation of my actions for as much of the fact that she was not alone as that it would be too complicated to even try.) She seemed not to recall the incident in any case.
It was only then that I came to truly realize the truth of the matter. In the three years (almost three years) that I have carried her in my heart she has become idealized, perfected. There was absolutely no way reality could ever compare with the fantasy. She would have always ever come up short against the perfect version I carry with me. But then again, seeing her face to face was the end of the dream. The reality had shattered it.
The reality could never compare with the dream and the dream could not exist when confronted with the reality. They annihilated each other and I need no longer to go on counting.