In the night, fallen so abruptly, surrounded by luggage ready to be closed, drinking coffee with Baileys for fault of milk, playing again and again Paavoharju, those songs sounding like the memories of a brilliant summer which would have never happened....

Haven't felt that lonely for years. It is not paradoxical. It is only that no one sees it as I do now. I would trample with anger on anyone's attempt to show commiseration, should it be the most sincere, since--I do address to the very most of all you--you...