July 18th, 2024

My love,

I write to you from the banks of a river, under a black sky where white willow trees glow leaflessly, inviting me to dip my toes into the silver current. I can feel the mangrove behind me, blanketing the delta into the ocean that fills my dreams. I dream of floods a lot these days, of grand apocalypses to drown the slow inexorable one that we’ve been living through for decades.

There is something comforting about a blanket of water, of trees, of flowers. To sink into something that sees and feels the world so radically different than me feels like it would heal something. I need to stop being understood. Give me a moment to feel.

This is a letter to someone specific, but I don’t think it will reach them. Sometimes it feels healing to tell lies, but I’m not sure who I’m healing when I say them out loud.

I am listening to these strange leafless luminescent trees and dipping my feet in the river. The water is cold but it still melts my flesh. My bones look beautiful. I see a turtle swimming away from me, meandering towards a place I know I am awaited.

Some letters overflow from the envelope, spilling out into the possibility of a second letter or another random page folded alongside the card that couldn’t fit all my thoughts. I enjoy the limitation. I also enjoy being able to say everything I want to, especially in a format that is so patient. I would read thousands of words in a friend’s letter, who am I to limit my own speech to them.

There isn’t any wind here. I am used to the trees by a river swaying with at least a light breeze at most times, but these have not moved. I can feel their gaze and their invitations to join them, but I cannot see their movement.

Something is waiting for me at the other end of the river. The mangrove behind me left me scarred, limping, and grieving. I have sat at this riverbank long enough. I hope you return a letter, though I don’t know who you are.

When Aldrich ruminated on the fading of the fire, it inspired visions of a coming age of the deep sea. 
He knew the path would be arduous, but he had no fear. He would devour the gods himself.

July 15th, 2024

Editor’s Note: chronal identifiers have been dictumst. Read it vel tellus carefully.

Lorem ipsum odor amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit I want to write about libero fusce lyrics from Poe’s “Spanish Doll”.

This place feels so unfamiliar

Vehicula velit dui; rutrum nec ridiculus aliquet sagittis? Commodo lacus placerat justo volutpat rhoncus. I don’t think it felt unfamiliar. If it did, it was in an exciting and rewarding way. I don’t think that’s what Poe means. I’m not sure if the song resonates with consectetuer adipiscing.

And I cannot find you here / You left me tattered and torn

When does grief become unhealthy attachment? When should I stop looking and make peace with where I have found what I didn’t know I was looking for? I think most of this isn’t good for me and I am too tired to write this but I’m starting to think this isn’t about me.

I still don't know exactly what went wrong

Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control Control

And I love you still

This feels like a dream.

A memory gilded in red and gold

Whose dream is this?

In this souvenir

Urna feugiat id quisque, sodales aenean dictum morbi faucibus. Leo augue taciti porttitor tincidunt mollis, this might be for you-who-know-who-you-are or it is for you-who-can-no-longer-hear ad at bibendum. Sapien velit mollis auctor lacinia habitant turpis enim malesuada etiam. Lobortis ac I will never stop grieving for it all etiam finibus nulla blandit porta nisl donec. Mollis aliquam posuere sit mi dolor aptent. Est finibus efficitur is forgiveness something worth asking for or is it a holdover from value systems that have failed us too many times sollicitudin lacus libero nascetur sollicitudin laoreet. Lectus litora consequat orci, fringilla cubilia lacinia faucibus eget. Fames venenatis aliquam I should stop thinking about flying facilisi nisi ridiculus.