Sunday August 27th

I am home with B. He got injured trying to catch my egg. There is something philosophical in it. he was trying hard, his best to catch it. He was trying to get it for us. He is committed. When nurse said - you know how it is called - it's called committed. B said - it's called - I don't give up. He was very thankful with nurses and truly appreciative. Ah, how I wish I can take his pain away. I am extremely proud of my man.

I am used to his facial expressions. I can read better. He is on the phone, he is mentioning my name, I matter to him. I am feeling love toward him. I don't know how to sustain my love - how to gain control of it, it is overwhelming. The only way to describe it that I keep coming to -  I want to melt myself and pour myself my liquid self in a ceramic jar, and then get into him, inside his skin, his pores, his intestines, stick between his hair, flow within his veins, give my love to his every cell, flow endlessly inside, outside and within him, envelop him in endless happiness. Enjoy his high quality, be proud of his courage, heart, decency, his tenderness and vulnerability. His genetically good skin, blood, organism. Hi head, that I feel especially care about, because I don't know how to flow in his head. I will just wrap my hands around his sculp, and protect from all the world. I love him. Let him carry me around. Breath my love towards his all wellbeing. Love him holistically. From deeply within and from above. Be a pulse in  his veins, be part of his conflict. Interact with him in all the ways possible - like a wave soothing, and like a way, struggling, and like a wave, that is fearlessly taking without apologies yet it is interaction, it is touch that makes it all justifiable. Because the touch worth it all.

He moved near me - to the room I am in. He wanted to be in my zone.