But without the accompanying music you always sing the same four or five lines, my diary is the accompanying music to the song of my memories without ...t I only remember parts but with the diary (and now these chapters) my memory comes to life.And now for what you have all been waiting for (hopefully) the continuing chapter:- I have now decided that what started of as a means of trying to sort out a problem I had in how to take things further, will now become almost an autobiographic sexy. They make an impression. I unwrapped the butter from its waxed paper. I took my time about it and let him have a good long look. I had arranged myself in the mirror earlier and now I calculated that at this angle he could probably see halfway to my navel.“This butter is excellent,” I said. I scooped a bit with two fingers and rubbed it with my thumb. I smiled. “Do you guys churn it by hand?”“Of course not,” he said. That smirk was still there in his red beard. “We have ladies who do that.”“Of. More

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