There’s a moment where we meet, and as the sunlight plays upon our faces, our loins are racing and full of smoke and dirt while the voices of everyone we’ve ever met ring in our sunburnt ears. I’m a good kid, but the part of me that believes in magic just can’t be trusted, and so I keep drifting further and further away like the Voyager 1 spacecraft until it’s just me and my words. You know it’s still got 300 years before it reaches the Oort Cloud, right? And after that, it’ll take another 40 thousand until it reaches the nearest star. That’s a long time, honey. I keep having these dreams where I wake in the morning next to Sarah. She’s pregnant with Bethany, and as I roll onto my side, I wrap my arm around her and place my right hand on her belly. I can feel B kicking beneath my fingers, and for a fleeting moment, everything is in its right place again. When my hangover shifts, I shake the dream from my head and go for a walk in the woods. I’ve been lost in the woods for many years, and something tells me I won’t ever escape them, but it’s okay. There’s nothing to be feared anymore. That version of myself I spent so long trying to get back- it’s gone. That love in my heart that used to burn so fierce- it’s gone as well. But it’s okay, because now I am at one with all things, and such loss and heartache no longer drag me down. Instead, they make me the writer I am. My history is in my bones. It takes me to a place that sets me apart from others. Where they see boredom, I see the stars. Where they find silence, I hear an orchestra high on Valium and childhood fears two seconds away from spiralling out of control. There’s a moment where your scent comes to me louder than war and louder than the construction of love. It’s been in the back of my mind, niggling away like a mosquito bite. It’s been there through so many highs and lows. It’s unshakeable. Unbreakable. It drives and lurks and whispers and lulls and even though the universe is forever and what we are is but pieces of dust, the chemistry of our union obliterates everything. Like a bullet in the brain of a non-believer or the faith of a writer injected into the skull of someone who gave up the ghost of their freedom years ago. None of what we worship is important. It’s all about the soul, and the soul and the soul and the soul and nothing else.