1. Strolling down the sidewalk, he comes across a bruised apple and picks it up. He holds it in his jaws without biting as we continue a hundred, two hundred yards, then sets it down in a new place. It is the moment before he relinquishes it that touches me: the workings of his mind made visible in that pause.
2. While I am stroking him, he turns his head and closes his teeth on me as gently as if placing a ring upon my finger. If my hand were a soap bubble, it would not burst.
Strolling down the sidewalk, he comes across a bruised apple and picks it up. He holds it in his jaws without biting as we continue a hundred, two hundred yards, then sets it down in a new place. It is the moment before he relinquishes it that touches me: the workings of his mind made visible in that pause.
2.
While I am stroking him, he turns his head and closes his teeth on me as gently as if placing a ring upon my finger. If my hand were a soap bubble, it would not burst.