Mudflaps Companion is a love letter of sorts. When you write a love letter you face yourself in order to show something that exists beyond what your countenance can communicate on your behalf. A split from the face you see every day in the mirror. A failure of your persistent self and the newly formed romantic entity to reconcile their differences and so develop a new unify toward a common cause. We oscillate back and forth and place our bets on the illusion of a new self in the transition space. A wager: the earnest intent of desire will steady hand may do better justice to your rich inner experience than the follies of your face, the face has only every betrayed the weakness of meaning within emotion.

We feel the need so fiercly, to divide ourselves and offer up the strongest part to the object of your love. We willingly offer vulnerability to the elements as we spend our energy shielding our strengths as though they may blow off in the wind . We keep none for ourselves, and so th We create our own internal power dynamic in order to other our weaknesses and then offer them up for sacrifice in the name of . Again. To whom? What happens when the new self fades? Why did we not

I once had a romance where

def print_hi(name)
  puts "Hi, #{name}"
end
print_hi('Tom')
#=> prints 'Hi, Tom' to STDOUT.

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