Images crystalize so distinctly in my mind's eyes.
This consciousness sees the sights, feels the textures, hears the sounds, tastes the flavor and smells the essence of her written world.
An excerpt from page 50.
"That night, as she sleeps in your arms (because her big shot husband is in New York for a conference), you will marvel again at how perfectly your bodies fit and how beautiful she is even with her mouth hanging open. You will bury your face in her hair and revive your faith in soulmate-ism. You will be convinced that you had once loved her, in the time of Genji, when you wrote her poems on paper fans that you had to throw into her window before dawn because even then she was married."
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