The Illness of Scent

: Of course, the reaction to how life would change began that very day, the first time she touched me with such depth. That embrace alone compelled me to claim her as my own. The scent of her body began, gradually, to seep into my blood. I don't know why—some unnamed dread would numb my body and mind at every moment! I couldn't bear to look at her for long.

I've noticed something about women—once intimacy takes hold, they begin to love like the possessed. Perhaps it is this body alone that becomes the sole source of their torment.

: You evidently write by descending into the depths of the inner world. Yet your indifference toward people suggests otherwise. Just how much had that longing for this person grown? Or would you call it intensity?

: I share with her every word of my deepest feelings—a terrible mistake.

: Why did you stop writing?

: Conversation with her suddenly ceased.

I'm caught in a kind of haze. Once this haze lifts, I'll become restless for her love—the way writing itself is only possible for someone who feels deeply.