Hello, open diary to the internet.
Hello, Dear Temptation, when someday you read this, or hear it read to you.
This is a meta-entry, an empty word, a giftbox containing but a few fibres of string, a torn paper scrap, and a coupon to receive the gift promised.
There are things I have posted to this blog which are passionate, vicious, sexy, controversial, revealing and deeply personal.
And there is further extremity beyond these; there do exist things I am not comfortable posting publicly.
Today's Swoon is one of them.
It exists, though. I wrote it down this afternoon, November 14th, around 5:45 PM, in the transitional window of spacetime before taking a big step to make some phone calls on behalf of our friend.
With you, Dear Temptation, I do intend to share the full text of the thought. And as I am using this blog as a tracker of (some of) my thoughts through time, I will leave this pointer to remind us to retrieve it. But what the actual content of the message is, that can be our little secret from the Internet.
The one to find here, the correct referent, is a piece that concludes in this way:
I think back to the beginning, the first memory in my narrative that fits under the label of your identity, and reflect on how little has changed.
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