I forget, too much of the time (especially lately) that I am full of passion -- that I am a passionate being. That inside and within this coy and soft and shyness, is the claw and the teeth, the low throaty noises and animals demanding escape of me. I forget that I am an empress a goddess a mystical bundle of absolute possibility. Perhaps I'm finally beginning to understand the importance of sex, of being sexual. Passion is a gift, like anything else -- love, creativity, memory. And if it could be harnessed, directed, channeled -- to have that passion in everything, in every moment -- tonight, with the sky falling down on me.