“How the Collage Artist Loved the Ballerina” by Genevieve Goffman
He loved her as though, to lover her, had been so tacked to his very nature, so stuck to his heart that heart and heart’s love were one thing as natural as the slicing of a blade. It was a holey honest love all deceit cut out. He loved her honestly, because she was beautifulperfectly shaped by the exacting strokes of her dark eyed dance instructorsHow could the collage artist love the ballerina incomplete? Loving her was like sliding scissors through tissue paper. A temptation too great to hold them balanced on the edge.