Partly because of the life you lead and the roads you travel, I am speaking fluently in the language of confusion, and I find myself questioning direction like a nomad without a map. You have little or no faith in everything and I am no exception, simply an extension to your month, the one in which you returned to me for a “take two”, a “second shot”, and (with a sort of perfect timing) just when I forgot about your tendencies to aim high and hit low… you swooped in with your perfect crime and left me to tend to my bruised ego.