I refuse silence. I want to speak this silence that exists between you and me. The whiteness of the page. All these intricate evasions.

As a voyeur, I violate your secret. I change the angle and penetrate the sinuous, twisting labyrinths of your dream. All these glyphic, Borgean structures. Is there a more archetypical pleasure than the joy of the mere presence? The pleasure of being here and now, with you? But this is a dream and I, as a voyeur, am the one who is aware of this dream.

'You let me get in too far. You lost control.'