Cutting Ties and Making Strides and Eating Lies

You dropped the man of constant sorrow somewhere between your soul reps, the falling leaves, and your soft eyes.
Sometimes you can't distinguish between when you need to close your eyes and when you want to do it just because you can't deal with the waking things.You want to escape in dream lands with sprawling magical cabin mansions that rock back and forth on a nameless sea, and you're holding hands with someone you used to love when you were young. When things were golden and frozen in time.


When Salvador Dali was a little boy, he had a dream about a little Russian girl swathed in furs, riding in a sled pursued by wolves. Many years later, in 1929, he met Elena Diaranoff, Gala, the wife of the surrealist poet Paul Eluard, and recognized her as the child of his dream. "We fell in love instantly", he wrote. Their courtship was both passionate and childish. He wore a red geranium behind one ear, and laughed when there were no jokes. Gala seemed to have understood. "My little boy" she told him, "we shall never leave each other." Dali invented tender names for her: bee, squirrel, furbell, noisette poilue, lionelle. Their love must have seemed whimsical at the time, but they stayed devoted to each other for fifty years.

There were the little names and the instantaneous attraction and the spontaneous laughter. But then there were the threats, the screams, the hateful stares that bore holes into your skin. Waves of crushing ice water that spun you around until you didn't know which direction was up. The crushing water everywhere. The tiny icy daggers in your lungs. Then someone would always pull you out. The creator, destroyer, savior. But dependent love isn't whimsical love. "My little boy, we shall never leave each other. My little boy, we shall never leave each other. My little boy, we shall never leave each other."