I suppose I had two careers. I suppose they did have all of me. This is his building. The elevator code is still the same as it was years ago. My deci...ion is not which will come first. I have to give up one of those careers. I suppose that that, like many of my thoughts today, is untrue. He wouldn’t mind me booking engagements as a geisha. Only the sex bothered him. But if you’re going to play by the rules, why bother? It just wouldn’t be the same. For me, the thrill was always the con-to see. The memory somehow made the hair on my back rise. A distant, logical and pedantic part of my troubled, aching mind sought to inform the other part – the instinctive, impulse-driven part – that technically, I had no hair. No back for that matter either.If I really had to be true and faithful to that stream of thought, I should have insisted on telling myself that I had no brain either, no corporeal existence of any kind. In a sense, it wasn't even me waiting to re-integrate across the other end. More

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