She belonged to him just as much as she belonged to herself. A stranger with a mysterious name. Constantly in awe of new possibilities that were dug up from the dusty crypt. A freshborn thought, dream, corroborated feeling would appear on her doorstep, ready to engage with the day. No she did not belong to him. They were both gifts in each other's kaleidoscopic view. Both ready to touch each other since there was nothing to hold onto. The mystery is always free.