If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This - Pg 200 : A Country Where You Once Lived

   As she moves, she dissolves into pixels--Seurat from too close--then reassembles; and unmoored as he feels, it's that process of dissolution and resolution that mesmerizes him. The way the tiny squares of cream and pink and red and brown and white fall apart into nothing, then emerge reorganized as a nipple, an eye, her hand between her legs, her smile. It's as though the computer screen is complicit in the tease of it all and complicit, too, in some greater, grander conspiracy of elusiveness.