. . . I said i want you join me on my travels. Wanted you be my princess, my muse, my inspiration. . . But that was a lie. . . For i couldn't wait till you think about it, i folded my sail and stepped down the land where you have home. . And i thought i will cut my sail into portraits and poems, make my adventures, tales and thoughts a shelter for you from the storm. . Make it home. All painted in colors of my little stories, my passion, and my desire for you. . . But you wanted to think more. . Then you'r yet not sure. . . And now you think this house style of the cutten sail is not working for you. . . It hits me again. . Its a big lie i tell myself. . . I have nothing to do with how women think. . . I want travel away again. . And dont come with me. . . Just give me back my sail. . . Maxim