Lettre Juin Vingt-Huit

It’s late and I’m tired. For the last few days, my sleep’s been getting scrambled by a combination of storms, 35°C weather, full days of dancing, long walks under the sun, not enough water and too much energy. I just came back from dancing out of town and since yesterday morning, she’s been that orange highlight on everything the sun touches. Why now? Coincidence? Coincidence that everyone’s been asking about her for the last two / three weeks? Coincidence that I heard from her family today and coincidence that I dreamed of her this morning? Coincidence that she was there to quench my thirst when I needed life back in me? Sure. But being myself, I still choose to make that particular dream a sign that I couldn’t let more time pass between missives and that a suitable one for the season is in order. And so I wrote it. Not for my sake, but for the sake of those who asked about her. What about me? I don’t know. I just know her mother once said I should wait ten years and then marry her daughter in all her coppery splendor. I remember that, and the pictures we took that day.



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