Whatever meaning her face once carried, it has long since disintegrated over days & nights in the tropics. It once served as testament to a genuine feeling of affection, which sadly grew stronger as it became clearer that it would remain unrequited. Now when I am greeted by her vision, it is little more than a sad trick I attempt to pull on the cosmos, some confused attempt to convince it that I have not been left out of the art of love. Behold my heart!, I say: I too have known these feelings! But it is of course a lie. This image I conjure at my fancy is just an empty phantom, one desperate to unbind itself from my spell of summon. I hope that one day its wish is granted, for both of our sake's; but I first need to come to grips with the reasons for this malady. Among other things, I need to accept that my actions sometimes work as they are intended to, as with my strategy of isolationism.