And only when you asked me, did I know …

And only this afternoon did my middle 

one bold, through his screenwriting 

whys, the 

nihilistic genius, the

one who spies the fall 

and rise of every single connected act – oh, 

what a man he’s 

becoming right now; oh, what a man 

and how …

… and so it was then when he asked me this question: 

if I were to take offspring (ie him and his 

siblings) out of the equation

of relationship and marriage, once 

ventured into so 

wondrous and gamefully

hoped,

would I still have chosen to marry her?

Would I still have dived in 

headlong?

And the brutal honesty of his mind, 

for it was about his own 

mother he asked 

of me 

this answer to be – or not, as the

case actually 

seemed – shocked 

me quite bad into 

a sad I did hide – though 

hardly too well

for his 

piercing eye.

And to be honest, I lied: at the moment

I could really 

not face telling 

brutal reply back

to such a brutal retry 

as that.

But thinking on it now, he was absolutely right:

the life I have not had,

the absence of 

wife …

… how on earth 

can you pardon 

such long-resisting inaction?


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