Dear E.,
Anything you want, you got it.
Love,
M.
Dear Things Beloved,
Just this:
One should never look at what one loves too early in the morning - the things we love are too fragile so early in the day, as fragile as the thread a spider is spinning at the edge of the wood.
From The Lady and the Little Fox Fur, Violette LeDuc.
Dear Waiting on the Telephone, on the Email, on the Letter, on the DM,
My new question, hmm, no, my oldest question is: What do you mean by that? Please don't give me your tired lines about it just is & it has no meaning, because I am here, I am right here, every day, every hour, contemplating the feeling vs. the look in the kingdom of the mind.
If you haven't heard from me, it's because I don't have anything nice to say. The result of this hellscape is retreat & grieving. If I get done with that (and I don't expect to finish up anytime soon), I'll get right back to you.