I had just gone through a bitter divorce and no matter how hard I tried I had written nothing of any quality for months. It wasn’t just that it was ...eginning to look like I was going to have to get a job and earn some money, but I missed the ability to create and entertain with my words, as if I had been struck both deaf and dumb. I could identify with the dead of the necropolis. Neither the silence nor the cold in themselves were particularly unnerving. The midweek mornings of any large town. We had, in effect, completely cut ourselves off from friends and social life, at first out of happiness with the self-sustaining contentment of our relationship (god, how I hate that word), but later out of some perverse desire to nurture our misery in private. Now, as I heard Xavier’s clear voice on the other end of the line, I sighed with gratitude. There was no one I would rather have talked to that morning. In fact, had he not called me I would probably have called him, as a natural place. More

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