forehead I caress him again and again, more and more it’s—like when when when—I don’t remember—it feels good, it’s nice down below and all over I’m warm, but like warm. My lover’s plastic forehead is sweaty too because I breathe on him with that fog that comes out of your throat, the same type you see on really cold winter days, but boiling hot. I don’t really know if you love someone by rubbing against them, but my friend is doing the same thing, she rubs herself hard against her pillow—that’s her dream lover. I hold mine tight against me, he’s between me, my lover, and later I imagine how good it must be to be an adult in a boat-bed and get caressed. I picture Prince Eric squeezing me in his arms, clinging to my belly, kissing me across my whole face and telling me how magnificent I am with his lips. And I… I feel so beautiful. I think that when you’re in love in a boat-bed, you feel super—like some sort of king or queen. I really can’t wait to grow up so I can shut myself away in a boat-bed all day long. Or maybe you don’t need to have a real-life lover to love you—maybe it’s enough to build a boat-bed and have a sea snake to imagine dream-love with. This is the first time that my play-love becomes as real as true love. That’s how well I imagine it. It’s exactly as if I’ve fallen in love. Maybe I am in love. Maybe I just don’t know with who. I do know it’s incredible. It’s such a super strong feeling that it’s got to stay a secret feeling. I feel like I shouldn’t talk about it, shouldn’t even mention it. In my opinion, lovers don’t shut themselves up in boat-beds for nothing. No, it’s precisely for this, so it stays out of sight, out of speech. Lovers have to build cabins to survive. They’ve got to be a tribe of two. That’s for sure.