I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it. But I didn’t, not really. Only the smudginess of it; the pink slippered or containered, semi precious eagerness of it. I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole. That the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea because it’s the halves that have you in half. I didn’t know, don’t know about the in between bits. The gory bits of you and the gory bits of me.