The girl in the mist (2)
I suppose it I'm not really missing anything much. How can you miss something when it's always with you? A quiet voice, aching pleasurably in your ears. I remember this joke I heard once, an explicit one in those days. This was back when I was young and living, and such things made me blush. Someone asked me, who derives more pleasure out of intercourse, the man or the woman? I, as usual, had nothing to say. Put your finger in your ear, is it the finger that feels pleasure or the ear? At that point, I had no clue about either. But once you begin to hear the voice in your ears, the constant aching, how can you ever want anything more? Today, I stood alone, watching the snow capped hills in the distance. I said, I wish you were here. I say that all the time, these days. The voice replied, I wish you were here too. It's so beautiful where I am. And I'm so alone, and so are you. Is it ever possible to be alone when the voice talks to you all the time? When the wind shook,