the unbridled joy of flight.

there have been so many things that i just cannot tell you about: things like fish and tea cups and variously coloured glass. there was, of course, the baby. i went to a tailor who will be making me a grey three-piece suit from rags. i saw a truly delightful film called charlie and the chocolate factory that i thought would only be about johnny depp and tim burton, but turned out to also be about socialism and how wonderful families are, both of which i actually happen to like far more than tim burton and pretty theatre boys. i saw lots of friends and was given wine and things from which i can drink saki. i cannot tell you about my favourite poem, and i cannot show you the pictures i have taken. the treasures unearthed from the past shall remain a secret, and so shall the sex. i cannot give you many details about the massage, given to me on a friend's table by my massage school drop out boyfriend, although i must confide that, for me, it was something like europe. i most likely shouldn't tell you about the infatuation, or the probable trip to pittsburgh and somewhere else in mid-august. and there are the other secrets. but i am a happy thing, and i'm quite in like with you.