The performance on Saturday is not so much a lesson about falling in love -- this is an easy trick for anyone -- but of how to remember love and turn it into something worth remembering continuously. That's a very rich connection. You are the giant in my landscape of fond memories. If I live another 50 years I could have a different recollection about you every day. Who else gives a writer such a thing? So when you drop a loaded note like last night's into my mailbox, with the amazingly saucy line about feeling "fabulous and have no audience to exclaim it to," how could I resist turning your nectar into honey anyone can spread on his tongue? That I can be your audience, even on the cellphone, means that I get to interpret what you say. And the older we get, the less censorship you'll impose on my recounting of what you felt, and in this way the character explodes into the future.