I turned-- as children do,
When hurt or affrighted, to their Mama--
To say to my guide:
"There is not one gram of blood
That does not tremble in me now--
I recognize the signs of the ancient flame!"
But emptiness only was there
Where a moment ago Virgil had stood.
Virgil, sweetest father;
Virgil, to whom I had entrusted
The safety of my soul.
And in that moment,
Not all the Garden that our ancient mother had lost
Could stop my cheeks--
Which he had washed with dew--
From being newly stained with tears.

Dante, "Purgatorio"

1. The occasion of the day to write a letter to whom I please-- like Eris' golden apple, "Kallisti"-- "to the fairest". To praise those I think deserve it (your supremely eloquent face). In all your face there is nothing timid or indistinct or half-hearted; every inch and every angle has all the power and intention of a galloping horse. Terribly beautiful and terribly dangerous-- not like a white tiger, for there is nothing surrealistic, icy or remote in your spirit as I see it-- but like a jaguar: sultry, languid, imperious, lethal. (So, of a sad necessity, there are those that would seek to curb your bloodlust).

2. Those who seek to trap it up, shut it away, clap it in chains-- having found it, they think only of keeping it; keeping it, they think only of neutralizing it. But what is a cat without claws, a rose without thorns, a hawk with clipped wings. X is deathly afraid of losing Y, and so loses her. Having seen the person of the desired image-repetoire, Z seeks to change an essential facet of the loved one and so alters her irreparably. Hades abducts Persephone and Spring vanishes. The malignant spell of half-life: I will possess half of her, and be content with this moiety, but only if the rest of the world possesses none of her. This grotesque and unkind will-to-possess.