.

It had been a dark and confused winter, and the authentic mind was hiding. It was as if the cold had seeped into our homes, and closed up our mutual spaces. All of our contact took on an alien, defensive quality. But in all the uncertainty, she was there. One night in November we stayed up, drinking on the sofa. I looked into her eyes, her face warm in the lamp-light. Rested my forehead against hers. With hot mulled wine on our lips we kissed and kissed and kissed, messy and wonderful, giggling, sighing, hands exploring, fucking and cuddling to sleep, as if with one great burst of affection we could shatter alienation forever and be free, and for a while we were.