I did not want to think — or rather, there were things I did not want to think about. I had run out of things to read. I tried to ignore the sounds ...�� the snores of those who had gone to sleep on the benches, with their cloaks as blankets if they had them, the heavy breathing and the loud or muted sounds of pleasure or pain from those who occupied benches but slept not, the drunken laughter and the sudden curses from the tables were cards or dice were played, the occasional shouts for more beer. Now just to be clear, I can understand the level of irony of referring to another “larger” woman as a whale, but that is something that developed between us and through our chats and through our love for each other. My whale loves to reveal her blubbery body to me, her sweaty folds glistening. She has shown me the depths that she will degrade herself to me (in private as most of it XH wont allow) and because of that I love her more because she is so willing to abandon any identity and totally. More

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