“I think it’s one of the greatest compliments,” he spoke, “…to be cited and referenced and acknowledged in way that only you can see—to know you’re on another’s mind and have been for some time.
With so little of thought in world that holds, to know one’s words and musings last and linger within another, to romantic in me, such are beautiful signs.
How do you build intimacy? How do you find it?
You give it. You share it, and if to whom it’s offered desires—it is returned, and both are made closer through the share.
I’ve never found another way.”
He smiled then blushed again as he had in last conversation. He was thinking again in story, imagined write and not living-speak in shared presence and place with her. Even in living, he imagined and dreamed in stories—many in share and dream with her. To see and feel their start of live stirred movement in the heart.
“Well I won’t overthink it any more than I already have,” he spoke. “It doesn’t have to be that deep,” he spoke in echo of her words. “Still, I like to think on you and the thoughts and words you share—whenever they appear, whatever they may be—inspired and raised from out of you.”
Warm of blush affected stronger, so too his stir of heart, as spoken words settled into silence—one of solace they, together, shared.