more to me to explain.

    Sometimes,  o o  forty-nine years. Next mont  long. S forty-five, but since t in separate rooms. I do not sleep  oss and turn and yearn for  of t, eyes open cumble. I sleep to me.

    Soon, t. tries in my diary er and take little time to e.

    I keep t of my days are t tonig one of t I  goes like this:

    I neer ruck before t hour

    it,

    bloomed like a s flower

    And stole my  ae.

    Because our evenings are our o told. I o go because I am too old to devote myself to a sc deep doed only by ts of une (抓阄转轮television game seeture is tVs blare because no one can hear well anymore.

    Men or  me s. quot;Im so glad youve come,quot; t my wife.

    Sometimes I tell t tell tness and augo see tiful place it is. Or I tell togetarry soutures toget sremely positive revieique) revieics ing in languages I do not understand. Mostly, tell t surn from me, for I kno  me to see t reminds tality. So I sit o lessen their fears.

    Be composed - be at ease h me...

    Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you,

    Not till ters refuse to glisten for you and to rustle for you,

    Do my o glisten and rustle for you.

    And I read, to let them know who I am.

    I  to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory, pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.

    If sry. tman, Eliot, She Psalms. Lovers of words, makers of language.

    Looking back, I am surprised by my passion for it, and sometimes I even regret it n