What remains in these places after we are gone? Will our ghosts haunt these tangled sheets that we leave behind in this anonymous room, looking for a home? Will the memory of how our bodies met, skin against skin, echo back to taunt every lonely traveller who follows us to this room.
Perhaps in some other reality that lies at angles to this one we never leave this room at all, but remain here entangled with each other forever.
You and I have lives that do not meet, except for these few hours we spend in this room that lies apart, outside, our lives. They used to be our real lives until we met and carved out this separate place, this new life that is now to each of us far more real than those other lives we haunt as ghosts of our former selves.
It is as though those former lives are lost to us now, out of reach, beyond touch. We pass through them, like ghosts pass through walls , in order to be here together. We know too that when these times are over, we must go back to those lives. Then, when we do, it will be as ghosts haunting them until we can come back to this small room and be alive and real again.
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