Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
I am thinking of aurochs and angels,the secret of durable pigments,prophetic sonnets,the fefuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share,my Lolita.