It worked much like a ferry that carries the desirer over lakes and rivers. I would use some measure of tact to find my way over to her house, and other times she was able to finagle her way over to my place. We had plenty of patience for the stresses that other people were sure to invent along the way, the obstacles of transportation. It didn't matter tho, because we were able to fill our cups full to the brim every time we met. Brimming, warm, growing and learning together.

Some days we would swing on my porch swing for hours, talking about people, culture, ideas, thoughts, dreams, love, religion--principles of life. As we sat there she would stare into my eyes for minutes at a time, searching, and then reveal to me details about my childhood that she had felt, surmised. I would grin and laugh, knowing that she could not have known that prior. We were eager to learn from each other, and learn about ourselves from each other--not the way that lovers do but the way that purists do. It was warm, like a warm handshake--an honest shake.

Other times a fantasy would occupy our conversations and we, like the purist creatures that we were, would recall past experiences to validify the unknown. A maze of dreams, past experiences, and old acquaintances were used as evidences to solve the puzzles of life's perputual questions. Along the way we did something phenomenal--we conquered pretense.

It was the ritual of life that we wanted to experience, cherish. Not the normal mundane ho hum that we heard other people talk about, but the deeper meaning and spirituality of this uncommon exsistence. I was the Cheshire Cat smiling from a perch, and leading her back around a course that she had invited me to follow, in a purist's wonderland.