The river was beautiful and wise. There were the two of them being happy in a new way. For here, there was no man, no woman, no master, no yellow, no black, no white. We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of Love. Along that river is the tree of heaven.

All bowmen are caught between heaven and earth, born to discovery, choosing to love and raise their eyes high to a future that is apparent only through the strength of their hope.

You are the apple of Love’s eye.

Small as a pea. Wider than the sea. This is where you and I came to be.

What are those glorious dots? Those, dear one, are forget-me-nots!