The earth is shifting, even if I cannot feel it. There is a glacier moving through my life. It is scraping all the stone off the top, crushing and tumbling and depositing all the substance of me in places I don't think it belongs. But I have no say in the result, I can no more stop it than I can melt it.

When I look back on my life what will I dwell on? All the romantic things I remember with disdain. Not because of what it meant to feel them, but what it feels like to only remember. It's not the romantic things that eat at me, but the remembering. We only remember what we no longer have.

Can you prove a desire? I think we can desire things, but we can never demonstrate our desire. You can hold hands, but it might just be to stay in place. You can hold her, but it might just be to keep warm. It all starts where it ends.