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Birds favour the other birds

The long draught comes to a full stop. Birds fly left and right with her arrival, and the soft, fragile essence of winter finally comes full circle. Through Miriam I have reconciled with a part of my past and all its transgressions, despite the discomfort and the lingering ball of hatred swelling inside me still alight. Miriam has gladly imparted to me the gift of hope. The hope that something good comes for every ten bads that runs me over to the wall. She now finds herself with me, and occupying her time this day with her first proper day of work, and on Boxing day at that, two days after she had lost her handbag in Holborn station on the way home from mother's.

I find myself worrying too much at the thought of her mind in stitches. This is not a very good way to start our relationship. Fretting over such matters now would only serve to fuel an unhealthy amount of longingness, of dependence, and of obsession. She does not need my constant meddling and pestering, and I need to slap myself stupid to remind myself every single time I do something as stupid.

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In the next few hours, not shortly before I am done with this piece, this vow will be disavowed. Miriam is sleeping soundly in my right, broken by the exhaustion that seemed to catch her unaware. This was not what she had prepared for when coming to London. This was not what I meant for her when I asked her to come. In order to alleviate the guilt of me making it more difficult for us both, I do what it is that I do best, and that is to love her hungrily and wildly. And some little bit of swag on the side to cure her state of frustration albeit temporarily.
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