He goes home to his life. I will always be displaced by it. And here I am again in this room, calm, half-sleepy, looking forward to going back to my life. We will never be a couple. One day we will find the sexual passion gone and a friendship taking its place. And through it all his marriage will have sailed serenely on. A radio’s on, somewhere out there, a woman singing wildly. A train passes. I don’t care. Nothing can touch me. The power of work. Art, and the huge, quiet power it gives.