Love is an idea; it is not real. Nothing we think orfeel--especially feel--is real.Only the moment is real. The now. The incident and the event are re...l,but only as long as they happen, for memories, also, are unreal.Very well. Let me explain. Perhaps an example will help. My breasts arereal when their weight is in my hands--or yours. They have density, then;they are tangible; they are measurable. Unmistakably, they haveexistence. But, after the moment, when they are no longer held, they. . no talk.”She fell silent.I asked, “How old are you?”“30”.“Tell me the truth,” I demanded.She looked surprised. Then slowly said, “33”.“That’s a good girl. Do you want to feel like 20 years old again?”She was puzzled by my question. Nonetheless, she nodded her head in ‘yes’.I said, “Pull down my pant zip and put your hand inside.”She looked shocked, she must not have expected that I ask her so soon to hold my cock. She mumbled, “I just came here to ask why you called me.”I knew she was lying.. More

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