My husband want me to be his conselor. I would be flattered except I know that with every confession roots would grow, sever, force themselves, break the earth while they bind, suffocate the ground and deprive the relationship of breath. I like to breathe free, especially around him. We struggle to free ourselves from eachother, fighting the instincts to bind and be bound, knowing all the while, because we’ve experienced that too, that total seperation is like death. This is just anothe...