“The art of living is the art of leaving,” my dear friend @garthmurphy once said to me at a party that was slowing down. The scar tissue on our hearts will tell us that this applies to more than just parties. From Garth’s record, Love Junkie: “I’m slippin’ into your veins, sliding up and through your heart, and rushing on your brain. Love junkie, love junkie, love junkie.” From his novel, The Indian Lover: “Since their marriage, Bill had become accustomed to the luxury of sex. But the acorn camp festivities had left little opportunity for intimacy. They made up for the intermission that last night, slipping off with blankets to an unused oak, slithering together like love-sick salamanders, lost in the throbbing and singing, and the pounding of their own hearts.”