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Monday, September 22, 2003

she is gone 

I left her at the airport yesterday. We arrived early, got a couple of coffees. Heathrow terminal 4 seemed so devoid of life - by which I meant that kind of life that flourishes in the streets of Leicester Square; the dirty, steamy summer life that emanates from the pores of un-bored people. INstead there was silence, broken by the occasional announcement over the PA, and the two of us, legs dangling at the coffee bar, trying to make the minutes stretch into hours, and hours into days.

I miss her far more than I dare to admit. So I think I'll stop for now.

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We only listen when we are ready to talk. We only talk when we can no longer stay silent.


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