Absence makes the heart depart to a tiny room and sit gently in the corner. Possibly rocking.

In my head there is a area which is specifically occupied with loving those whom I love. I do not need to command it, it just carries on, everyday, everynight, functioning efficently in order to be sure that the love continues. It's a little bit like a W.I. group. It's very good at making things remain pretty. It always changes the flowers and sweeps up and makes cakes and there are lovely smells and interesting talks and thoughtful ideas and general all round niceness.

Within that area there are rooms specifically occupied by the presence of the people I love. They exist only so that I may visit when the people who occupy them are not physically near me. In there are the best memories; the best smells, the smiles, my favourite images. All the things I would not need if the person I wanted was near to me.

Usually when a person goes at first I just keep the door of their room shut; things are easier that way. But the other day I opened it just a tiny little bit, and was somehow sucked in. And now, increasingly, I find myself spending my waking and sleeping hours there.