She asks things that require me to break open the moment, things that remove whatever spark (if it were going to be) between us (that would need to be immediate), as if to go deeper apart from any probability of going any deeper in.
There is a type of kindness that is burdensome, sometimes I have it. I let her ask, and I respod. Her understanding of my answer seems to preclude her ability to have understood, based upon her need to ask. But she has asked, and I have answered.
I feel as though I need a directory of the planets to consult before proceeding, then recall that I have been proceeding all along, getting to know myself outside myself.
Here I am, learning nothing that is everything. There she is, picking up something among my guesses.