I have a love-hate relationship with woman, with self. We’re a pain in the ass, finicky defensive manipulative reactive subtle incomprehensible. I find myself thinking those things about me, mystery to myself, yet when I’m with women the mystery becomes magic, a form of greatness, vastness like sky or sea that I could birth in. I fall in love with women, abundant rich deep thrilling magnetic powerful.

We’re a strange tribe whose language was stolen from us in the cradle so we no longer understand ourselves. Who will teach it to us, when our grandmothers are dead or have forgotten?

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