'The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to ourselves'. Montaigne.

It's the postcard ( now pinned above my desk ) that Karen sent me on the day she knew I'd discover her relationship with Serena. In short, I have found myself. I'm a lesbian! And I am so happy! But how infinitely preferable is Montaigne's translation. But in even the Frenchman, is there not an air of so don't go thinking otherwise! Does she protest too much? Is she protesting at all? But I have a trove of sexual memories of Karen and nothing she does can eradicate them. I see her now, biting the frame of the oak bed seconds before she flooded us both with ejaculate. Clearly, I shall have to be the custodian of that history. I shall write it up, every single encounter, every last detail. I'll return to the very sheets where Thom was conceived- and bequeath the whole chronicle to him. What else is a father for?

' Dreams are the true interpreter of our inclinations'.

We can all do Montaigne.