1:05:05 I rose from the high-chair with the paper from grandmother's orange grove in my hand. My bride! (Just look at her, at her fingers which have engulfed so many men, and guided them in between her lips.) She matches all my senses, I declared in...
Neither I found any inner reflection of the external sensations on my running trip, and jogged back in the misty odour of sheep manure to attend ablution in the schoolroom. An old, yellow Kadet was parked on the hilltop. I hate you, I thought as I passed the bumpy car. But at the same instant I get excited by envisioning your lips when they encircle your lovers tongues, and your tongue when playing with their glans. It was a distance from there, to our relationship as it is now, I commented. At that time I still looked for the causes to my suffering.
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1:05:21
I usually blame the outer reality. Truly I want to help you on your spiritual path, dearest. Helping you to liberate yourself, surrender to devotion. But I felt no recompense. Still and all, I knew that the joy of helping and observing ones dearest evolve - even through lust that also includes others - is one of the most rewarding processes a lover can go through. But since I wasn't aware of the inner reality of things, I didn't understand that the cause of my suffering is inside me, in the fact that I react blindly to pleasant and unpleasant sensations.
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1:05:22
Aunt dropped my swim trunks back into mother's bag, coughed a little and gave her a business card. If any of your students should ever need the care and safety of my children's asylum, simply call the four stages of adolescence; pirouette, valse, plie and ta ta ta. The pianist played, tongue out of mouth, when mother sneaked in again. I was a quiet, patient child whom she could hide among the canned food, while she continued to pursuit her dream part, I said and looked up at stepfather's bill adding up to the value of 1475 big burgers, and the eager type-hitting deer-creature by the living room table.
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