I'm hesitant to blame anything on the Internet. Things always felt inevitable to me, even if the Internet helped them along. And it's hard to think something inevitable is also bad. That's what I was trying to , I guess too vigorously, or at too much length, in what was probably the latest email at the time he would have been reading them, but I don't know, either that or a shorter one about seeing a painting of a vagina that made me think of her, or one before that about the blog, or if it was later, which doesn't really make sense, but if so, then there was another email about missing her because it had been a week or so, which, come to think of it, that was probably the one.