Aster chilensis: or Self-Immolation

Do you remember when I told you I wished I could write down what happened? I was desperate. We were at a restaurant by the sea. In the stillness of time, I despaired of capturing your uniqueness which exceeds all measure: this ground I can never stand on. I needed the security of what had happened, even if I'd already died in the blaze. I see now that I was desperate for you to exist: otherwise I'd die. So for the sake of being, I withstood your scorn and became its possibility. You delight...