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".....The only person who had every really asked her questions was her husband, and that was because love is a constant questioning. In fact I don't know a better definition of love."

So says Milan Kundera in Lost Letters. After the death of her husband, Tamina cannot get close to any of the men who try to woo her and is locked in her aloneness in a strange land. One day, she realizes what it is that bothers her so much about them, what it is that is missing. They are always talking about themselves, the things that happen to them, what they did, the places they went to - rarely did they ask, so how have you been, what fills your days, are you happy, what do you think of when you have that far-away look in your eyes.

So many relationships that slide into imbalance, because one person always asks the questions, and the other is too locked up in his/her self to bother.

How was your childhood, have you flown kites, are you warm, why are you sneezing, will you call me when you reach, do you beleive in ghosts, what's your favourite colour, do you know the smell of mummy-cat tummies, did you ever eat toothpaste, can you turn cart-wheels, what was your great-grandfather, can you touch the floor without bending your knees, what is your earliest memory, do you like rolling on grass, and why did that shadow pass over your face the other day when we were laughing with friends at the restaurant?

Ask.

Jan 18, 2004.