Limerence lane.

So how did I call to Papa Legba?

And I'm sticking to my belief...

Only way to make sense.

How else could I have been offered this gift of the river and the maze.

After he was beaten up

Days full of painful, hurtful revelations.

I sat here, unable to think or move.

For hours.

Singing:

...Mr State Trooper

.....Please don't stop me

........Please don't stop me..

Pleading with life, luck and fate to open the way for me.

I wanted out.

I wanted out so bad.

And would I have taken it?

If my phone had rung.

If 

As has now been said

I heard the words

"Please come!"

No

That is one thing I know about me...

I don't let go until I'm sure.

It's an ethics thing.

I've done so many dumb stupid things in my past.

I've learnt to stay still and think...

Am I now sure?

Sure that my husband really is intent on this being as bad as he has made it?

That he really wants to alienate himself from us, his sons, from me?

He has discovered who he thinks he really is.

And that 'person' just looks like a description of a psychological process, good old 'splitting'.

A 'config of self'

Hijacked by ancestors.

Either way, should he wake up and see...

I listen to the recordings.

His ugly and cruel words...

His way back is closing down.

I am his only way back to me.

I have not said much about the limerence. 

Nor will I

It is such a delicate and fine experience.

A slip-stream of fantastic possibilities.

Romance turned up to 11, does that describe it better?

All I know is I am so, so grateful.

An entirely virtual experience, made up of nothing but air...and mind.

If it evaporated like dew under the first rays of the sun I have been blessed.

It turned the sensation of blades, of raw grief slicing through me, to an angle where I feel how close is the spin, but the serrated edge misses...

Like holding lightning.

limerence lane...

My words are too heavy, and 

Crossing over.

From virtual to real

Is another subject.