never would i have come to think about you this way. mostly unexpected. highly disruptive. the energy that shakes my floor has been released again. and what is most bewildering is the proximity of the epicenter: in my own craddle, along my travelled road, in my very own moment. your remembrances were my delight. the strength of character i failed to predict completely. the similarities you were trying to establish with my preferences. your compliments about my explicitness. maybe your own wounds needed the healing of untold comprehension, and the experience of my misery called up your attention. i don't care about your reasons, but i die for your motivation. is it self-interested or out-reaching? is it self-sufficient or unsustaining? is it me?