i was thinking about the two hearts that were soldered into one like a plumb and moreover r. noted, like an arrow. i thought about that. now they are two hearts, patinaed nicely from their tenure in the objet box, and no longer an arrow. cupid, the lil devil be fustrated. what is that fat punk doing shooting lovers, is that what love is?  that seems twisted; cupid a concupiscent thug. anyway we were kind of discombobulated that day, by heart if not holiday. now i think it was all cool. it's all grist for the mill, and i like how two come together and apart and together and over time it's a bit like entanglement, and rather a dance.