She was beautiful, until I remembered she looked like you. The shape of her face and her wide saucer eyes bore a striking resemblance. Perhaps it was the olive shade of her smooth skin that made the resemblance so striking. She was beautiful in her own right, doubtlessly, but for a moment the slight resemblance brought a rush of memories and the thought of your life, so far apart and foreign.
I've seen you and the adventures of your friends. Diving and roaming to unfamiliar places. I'm on my own adventure now, and the thought called me back to Anna Karenina, which has been carrying me through the Midwest mountains and the deserts of Nevada. Tolstoy's explorations of love and passion and of marriage and infidelity keep my focus keen on the possibility of love.
Far away now, I can't continue. Where was I? In the forests, searching for an excuse to forsake my Kitty? What a fool I was. What a fool I am. I have no such mythic figure. Not anymore.