Between skin and skin there is only light. And there was my poetry. - John Fowles

Between skin and skin, there is only light.

I am infinitely strange to myself.

The moon hung over the planet Earth, a dead thing over a dying thing.

It's no good. I've been trying to sleep for the last half-hour, and I can't. Writing here is a sort of drug. It's the only thing I look forward to. This afternoon I read what I wrote... And it seemed vivid. I know it seems vivid because my imagination fills in all the bits another person wouldn't understand. I mean, it's vanity. But it seems a sort of magic... And I just can't live in this present. I would go mad if I did