A prologue by Jack.
"Happy New Years, Jack."
Here I was . . . spending another year in London, England. High waves crashed. Another boat passed through the midst, with her head down, with me on it. She wore a name I couldn't remember. It wasn't because I had a poor memory that I couldn't remember her name, but tonight smoke formed on the deck, covering the letters and all evidence that she had one. Fog blew through my nose, as I considered the life within me, beating again and again like a symphony of drums. I was so weary of being the only one. Talking out loud to myself. It could drive a person crazy. So why was I still existing? This sphere of repetition was bothersome. There had to be more. I wanted to find meaning.
Like a woman.
One I can keep. We can bend the earth together. She could be my soul purpose. Some soul that can stay 800 years with me. No problem.
Oh love, when I find you . . that's it. I'm giving you everything.
You can have my crate of secrets.