‘Your Amelia, Alex? I don’t think so. You’re my Alex. Surely you know that by now?’ The smile in her eyes when she said it, her smile said it...all. Her Alex. My Amelia. I think we’d both fallen in love, somewhere between the rope and the wheels and the veil. Strange, that we say fallen. For us, it seemed to happen more side by side with a stillness, a circling, an enrapture. Perhaps you only fall if there’s a safety net. With Amelia, whose whole life was a plummet, headlong and fearless, was. But then nevertheless I myself am about to bed down otherwise as in try to get for myself that being of my 'beauty-rest' as in other words z's regardless of how that being of one of these faggotty, or closet-faggot proverbial neighbors-from-hell male characters being among themselves of some, or of such public-nuisances of problem-neighbors be disrupting, or interrupting that being of my sleeping patterns with that being of the way that they themselves be making quite a bit of rackets at times,. More

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