Learn from us very much
Look at us but do not touch

I am well aware of the changing colours in my life. The sun hanging there, effortlessly, against the horizon, the trees with new leaves, the ocean uneasy and still beguiling to the eye. Much of what has taken place has begun to take seed inside me and sow forth knowledge. Knowing that I cannot perish, as long as I am careful for all time, is not the part of this that transpires into fear. I am still fearful of my driver. Who I cant seem to bear to write the name of because it resonates with me on levels I cannot abide at the moment. I know not my place. Because I am dependent on him. Because if I were kidnapped by all the kings horses and all the kings men, death would be my undoubtable ending, without Gaul, because I am yet to learn my potential.

I can?t imagine what lies beyond death for our kind. That is another avenue of thought I neglect.

He has said a few things that perplex me. But it is not all in his words. But his behaviour.

He makes himself at home in any place. Walking through time and life he does as he wants, and the outcome embers, because the world is his to haunt freely, because he is formidable and beautiful.

He sleeps beside me every night without batting an eyelid. I told him I was afraid of myself with him, and for wanting him. He is dismissive of my concerns.

And there is the violence in him, but not for angers sake, or sadness, but desire. To live as he must. His uneasiness beguiles me like the sea.

But nothing can be defined here. There is so much gray, for as far as the eye can see.

I hadn't seen Gaul for a couple days and decided to go looking for him. I needed for my nerves to be settled. To move around and not keep succumbing to the tiredness. To forget that I was Hungry, still. I came across my driver in the Hall, where I felt he would be, and found him draped over the couch staring at the fire. He's so relaxed. He looked so peaceful. We spoke briefly, I queried him on Mr. Grey who as yet I've not had further correspondence from, and then he presented me with a pair of pruning shears and asked that I remove what ails him. I couldn't quite believe my eyes. This situation becomes more surreal as time passes. And where once I may have fainted or even ignored it, I am these days developing a sense of humour about the peculiarity. It isn't so grotesque or frightening if I don't allow it to be.

I know I am cared for and will be looked after. I will fight against it, but he knows, and I admit, that it is needed. For a while at least. I am stubborn, but underneath it all I am touched beyond any word I can put to paper.