« No one will ever know | Main | Because I still need you (also known as him) »
October 22, 2003
Making Love
They had been married seven months. They said nothing of any importance. They washed up the dishes and went to bed. In bed, they made love. Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; re-made all the time, made new. When it was made, they lay in each other's arms, holding love, asleep. In her sleep Heather heard the roaring of a creek full of the voices of unborn children singing.
- The Lathe of Heaven, Ursula Le Guin
Posted by lainey at October 22, 2003 08:14 PM