Last night, an out of place dream about T  (but aren't all dreams out of place, and perhaps, out of time?). We shared a kid (neither his or mine), anal dilators, a cramped bed with threadbare sheets, a bitter, if arranged, marriage. There were kinky sexual acts and a female contortionist, and before the marriage, a shoulder rub, ramen stands, many longing looks and silences. It was a Wong Kar Wai movie in the Third World.

I remember the emptiness.

He said, "The anal dilators need to go."

I remember aching for love.