It isn't enough to walk around it at a distance, saying it's an orange: nothing to do with us, nothing else: leave it alone
I want to pick it up in my hand I want to peel the skin off; I want more to be said to me than just Orange: want to be told everything it has to say And you, sitting across the table, at a distance, with
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"You simply can't make someone love you if they don't. You must choose someone who already loves you. If you choose someone who does not love you, that is the sort of love you want."
-- Israel Horovitz; The Secret of Mme. Bonnard's Bath
I worry about you. Not in a parental sense, but in the same way I worry about myself. I worry that you will be different when you come back. Who am I kidding - you will be different. This is a part of you that spins me right round - it is so predictable that you will be different, sadder, which means that I will be sad because I would have lost
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I don't like it when people become their jobs. I know for a fact that whilst your occupation can be (should be?) a big and important part of your life, you should not forget that you are not your job. Your personality might help you be good at what you do, but your job should not define you.
I suppose what I'm really trying to say is that I don't
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