Toni Morrison:
Paul D sits down in the rocking chair and examines the quilt patched in
carnival colors.  His hands are limp between his knees.  There are too
many things to feel about this woman.  His head hurts.  Suddenly he
remembers Sixo trying to describe what he felt about the Thirty-Mile
Woman.  "She is a friend of my mind.  She gather me, man.  The pieces I
am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind."

I feel like you gather and give the pieces back to me, even when you
don't try to.

But I've learned something this past week, the hurt of being loved by
someone you don't love back, the slippery resentment towards someone
trying to seduce you when that's not what you want.  That hit me in a
way I didn't expect, made me wonder about some of the people I love.


Listen: please come to my concert Tuesday, and stop by for a bit after?
It should be a good concert, and my room is as comfortable a place as it
ever was.  Even more so, maybe.  Though whatever you decide about this
invitaion, please write and tell me or call, don't let the silence speak
for you; it is a tired, stammering orator, tired and a little woozy, and
I can never make out what it has to say.

					Yours,
					Kirk