Zut.

Dear you. Thought about all the reasons I had for not wanting to go -- would rather settle down at home for a week before more hectic travels, would rather not risk lung explosion, would rather catch up with the girls, would rather frisbee with the home on the Wednesday we'd get back, would rather not waste money and exploit the land and indulge in so many lavish things, would rather not as you say beach and drink and tan. But none of those reasons factored you in and come to think of it, there's not too much I would love more than to unwind on a beautiful island with you and spend some time away, because we won't have so many chances together anymore and I could never buy back time I wish we'd spent discovering someplace new. Today you told me of losing conscious control of your faculties and then I started experiencing the same of my lungs, can you see those hands that held you back? I heard the sounds of hell, of you being mastered though you were died for to be freed. When will we snap out of this. If I say these that you don't want to listen to, you wouldn't even hear anymore so I'm not sure what can be said to or done for you but by God alone and when you ask where He's at I also wish He'd be slightly more obvious and severely more deafening for you and for me but maybe I can start with just simply being by you again and maybe when we're totally immersed in splendidly created seas we might for a moment together have no doubt about their Creator.