lt.

I thought of writing you the other day and I did not, yet this morning has made of me some kind of thoughtful after reading your kind words- mush of a man, I think sometimes the way a woman says things to a man, sometimes, no- I am speaking from the heart, excuse me for the jitter jatter, I am rather a nervous man. Never have I truly wanted to, never have I had the courage to say to you that which I want to- I imagine, I am imagining us walking towards Daly center very much in the same way miller imagined FD. and Trotsky square, God! and the allusions, really though what I want to say is at that moment you gave me a part of you with which I was very unfamiliar with, a part of your heart, a little bit of honesty, and I feel as though, to some extent, you deserve the same. France! My envy could cripple a mountain. My apprehension was deep, a molded sun, at the thought of you before I knew you, yet please let me know and understand it is melic; my intentions are of the best sort, and truly, genuinely, never have I wanted to befriend, or be a friend to someone as much as I have with you. I am speaking rather honestly and excuse me, yet I hope that is in part ok with you, but the sun is shining and your words have warmed me…let us begin…I had a pen pal in New York but out of a misunderstood obligation I killed her- I would love to receive letters from you, from France! Dear God it pains me to say that, not you, no, but France! Ah my jealously is getting to me, but, if you would than I would as well, no? We are talking and walking, walking and talking- I am the cliché now- and you say, l. says, ‘the world, the city, has made, makes you cold’…I agree. Then what, what then happens? We eat, rather you eat- I want you to see this the way I am seeing it, the way you see it, please remember- and I look at you as the snow is falling and the light which once shone above changes and the flakes become more white and the city changes, you change, and beneath the falling snow you appear to me as that which I have always known you are, human; life can only take so much from life but it gives back, twofold. I saw you in the whirl and burl of life which alone is a testament to what I am trying to say- words are birds! - that you are life, we are life, and aside from all that jazz, in the midst of all that is seemingly wrong, you gave breath to something, gave life. Please know that this is a part of my heart; a part of life. I am laughing now, reading, reading and writing, looking at a quote I have written on my wall -in French nonetheless- wondering, wondering always why, yet at this moment I know……..

‘Je ne parle pas logique, je parle generusite?’

I write you out of the love which exists within me, that two individuals can meld that which was never broken from the beginning, beginnings, ah! In the beginning was my end, thus here we are; a black chapeau bobbing.

gb.