A Z A V A T H

My inquisitive desire permeates your flesh. Into your muscles, every muscle of mine melts. Fiber to fiber. My nerves are braided with your nerves. My eyes are opened in the depth of your eyes. My brain coils around your brain. Now, I am You. Here, a new consciousness awakens. […] I love all that you love. I dream all your dreams. My memory is filled with your secret past.

To encounter oneself is to encounter the other: and this is love. If I know that my soul trembles, I know that yours does, too: and, if I can respect this, both of us can live. Neither of us, truly, can live without the other: a statement which would not sound so banal if one were not endlessly compelled to repeat it, and, further, believe it, and act on that belief.

Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.

Just as the extreme of pain meets sensual pleasure, and the extreme of perversion borders on mystical energy, so too the extreme of banality allows us to catch a glimpse of the Sublime.