after a while we forget what it used to be like way back when, silhoutte behind the unknown shadows of profiles, no face ... no skin ... no image, time when mystery is an aphrodisiac. Time when words are all that was able to be offered. And words are what will describe who we are. Be it lies, be it truth. Imagination ... mind ... play ... running free in the snow ... until spring comes and then maybe summer will turn to a season of meetings ...

My Ideal Person to find one who share the delight of wordplay ... to seek the one who dwells in the dominion of imagination ... to see blindly one that will touch the deep wrath and warmth of pssibilities ... and together venture in the world where we create and end ... and turn the page to another world .. as we please ...