I feel like I am tip-toeing a tightrope.
Be more specific.
I feel like I am dangling from a tightrope, strung between Troy and the SitCo where I buy beer.
Are you Odysseus?
I am his heel. Not even weak enough to be notable.
But part of a greater whole.
No, I am not part of it.
Then you are a ghost.
But I do not feel like a ghost. A ghost is loved but does not love back. I am-
You are a vampire. You take but do not give back.
Yes. I am a vampire.
And the tightrope?
There is no tightrope. And Troy has been sacked. There are a lot of banks. There is a silent conch shell.
That I am worried about money. And that there is little poetry in worrying about money.
Thus the conch shell.
Yes. The conch shell is not a metaphor. But it is not actually there.
So it is a lie?
Do you lie often?
When I want it to be beautiful, I lie.
You find lies to be beautiful?
I find silence to be terrible.
That I do not yet know.
Were you lying when you said you were Odysseus heel?
Yes. I am Calypso. I have few guests, and I take everything from them, and I give nothing back.
Like a vampire.
Yes. Like a vampire.