Saturday, November 20, 2004 at 09:03 AM

Trickling fingers over skin so alive it moves and sighs with touch; pressing up and away awash with warmth and sighs. Sounds so soft, crystal clear in the darkness blind to eyes, heightened senses memorising every stimuli storing away in nodes of memory for the days when the stores will have to carry through days when you're not here. But not that thought now, not now. Now is for the imprinting fingertips with the feast of sensations in this time of plentiful pleasure.