House Of Leaves Is Certainly About The

Anger Is One Way To Respond To Fear. I Say One Way Because Responses Are Categorically Multiple.

You Shall Be My Roots And I Will Be Your Shade, Though The Sun Burns My Leaves. You Shall Quench My Thirst And I Will Feed You Fruit, Though Time Takes My Seed. And When I'm Lost And Can Tell Nothing Of This Earth You Will Give Me Hope. And My Voice You Will Always Hear. And My Hand You Will Always Have. For I Will Shelter You. And I Will Comfort You. And Even When We Are Nothing Left, Not Even In Death, I Will Remember You.

People Frequently Comment On The Emptiness In One Night Stands, But Emptiness Here Has Always Been Just Another Word For Darkness. Blind Encounters Writing Sonnets No One Can Ever Read. Desire And Pain Communicated In The Vague Language Of Sex. None Of Which Made Sense To Me Until Much Later When I Realized Everything I Thought I'd Retained Of My Encounters Added Up To So Very Little, Hardly Enduring, Just Shadows Of Love Outlining Nothing At All.

At The Breakfast Table We Are Footnoting Everything That We Read. We Don't Recognise It As Such But We Encounter An Article In The Newspaper And Then Suddenly We Recall That A Friend Had A Certain Comment On That Particular Story, A Certain Bit Of News That We Saw On The Television Applies To That And We Immediately Assemble An Idea Of A Story.

Through All The Windows I Only See Infinity.