My words are ink blots, designed to play upon the very essence of what my readers want to hear. Sadly, I have neither granted wisdom beyond what they already knew, nor I have provided them with insight beyond what pieces they had already put together. Whatever it is that they seek they will not find here. But what of me you ask? What do I see in it all? in every word I see his bright blue eyes peering down at me in first sights spark, I feel his arms toss me into the sky only to catch me in his bed of roses, I hear his foreign voice resonate through my mind in a harsh language spoken so sweet, I see that smile that was only for me that night he took me to watch the Emerald City’s lights, and I feel my heart start pounding again like it did when he put his palm to my chest and astonishingly said, “you have a pulse.” In the divine, star-crossed madness of it all, I have to catch my breath and smile because I can still feel him pulsing through my veins.