It consumes me, abandons me, beckons me,saddens me, disappoints me, arouses me. But, then, a breakthrough: arealization. Love is an idea; it is not re...l. Nothing we think orfeel--especially feel--is real.Only the moment is real. The now. The incident and the event are real,but only as long as they happen, for memories, also, are unreal.Very well. Let me explain. Perhaps an example will help. My breasts arereal when their weight is in my hands--or yours. They have density, then;they are. Alone on the sidewalk, I checked the odds of anything further happening on my short walk back to my graystone and then reexamined the chances twice more. Since nothing else seemed likely to ruin my early morning, I gathered up my flowers and the flower girl’s cane and walked back to the mansion, to find the lame young girl waiting for me, sitting on my front stoop as if nothing had happened.“The streets have eyes and ears, my marvelous young Miss,” I laughed with a smile, “so I think you’d. More

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