Jacob Lawrence, "The Lovers," 1946
Jacob Lawrence, The Lovers (1946)
Can a Game Be Literature?

Mark's Pages

In Paris we made love in a sleeping bag, side to side, silently in a room full of students, undetected. It was honest and sweet and long overdue.

But we couldn't make it last. Driven by resentment, misunderstanding, vanity, above all inexperience we drifted into separate worlds where the other didn't belong.

Our professor said, "I've never seen two such sad people..."