He gives her emeralds. Jewels the color of her eyes, and with the same fire. Emeralds made into earrings and bracelets and necklaces and rings and pins. Enough emeralds, says his exasperated aide, to use up the production of an entire Brazilian mine. His favorite is the necklace, a slim gold chain with a giant emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds. He loves to see it hanging between her breasts when they make love. He wishes he could possess her body and soul, but she holds a part of herself aloof. The emeralds don’t make up for the one thing he can’t give her. His name.
(Free-written fron a guided meditation led by Nancy at a Kitchen Table meeting)
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