Asleep, in that very special way, in
that very special place. Quiet, withdrawn, listening with passive
excitement. Open, laying down in DaSade's arms, on the floor. The
discomfort, if there is any, is unnoticed at best and irrelevant at
worst.
As he speaks to me, I can feel the
shift of when he clicks with something; finds an idea and a metaphor
he wants to latch onto. It's subtle but thrilling every time;
exploring with him as he does so with me.
I feel his fingers run across my scalp,
and then feel them reach into my mind.
