Forgive me / They were delicious

The winter night was so stubborn in its pursuit that I could barely breathe, let alone feel my face which had frozen stiff the moment I pushed the glass door, oh so heavy with wind, open. The play Tobias and I saw that night was called "Cleansed," written by Sarah Kane. Visceral images, nudity, explosive and subdued energy, love and its inefficacy in being able to heal. Promises of forever (falsified or simply the result of being too fervent, too youthful?) Relationships failing and ones tucked away into recesses of insanity, others rising with the glow of the sun--the same glow that brushes across the pink Western Arizona deserts--the same glow of the candle we sat with at the cafe and cupped with our hands, never wondering once about the allure of this wickered cylinder of wax sitting comfortably in its own glass tub, stewing in its own juices.

I'm afraid I talk about Urchin too much. It can be really off-putting, I'm sure.