Only the gulls answer me. I sit and stare across the water. On some shore I cannot see across the blue waste of water lies a place that once may have...been home. I try to remember what it was like there, what I did, who I loved. I almost remember when my wounds reopen and I allow myself to sink into blackness. Images drown me in the water that is now my home. A snippet of laughter, a soft kiss, a forgotten bit of sun. It is only the jeering of the gulls high above. There is sand in my mouth. A. " Techniques - such as?" Eye contact. Calling you a whore while wearing a smile, ending with, I love you. Staring at your sexual parts with hungry eyes. Softly touching you in an intimate place without venturing to a very intimate place. Those are techniques used by the masters. You never stood a chance. That wasn't fair. No more techniques, that's my promise. I'll try using my own techniques."Whatever books he'd been reading steered him right. The techniques worked like a charm on me. I felt. More

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