A seven-hour flight.

It seems like a lot more than a year ago that I was frightened by the bite, yet now I know it is no harsher than the bark. In the beginning, you felt like an invader trying to derail my train of thought. You really did...

I took the first step in the perfect place to start, neglecting all the mayhem and havoc my egoism was wreaking. But the fear of being spoiled was lodged inside my throat, choking me with words I never listen to. Taking control of what of me was still conscious, I promised you I would go back to where we started from, "if it's a seven hour flight or a fourty-five-minute drive"... So tempting were you as to spoil me and make me feel shy of your spark... Then, I figured out that "P" was for "prudent", "precious", "pensive", "poised", "personable" and "persistent". Yet I wonder if I'll go on in the same way. "No, not in the same way"...