A letter (2)

June 23, 2019

Dear M,

Today is June 23rd, almost mid day. It was raining all morning. Tables are probably wet. So are the chairs. Everything carries this odd smell of white marble, eve though everything is made of steel. I am wearing the same white shirt I wore in bed, hoping it will carry the warmth of my nightly body, quiet warmth, effortless and naive, unlike ever so anxious mind. Hoping it will carry the dreams into my real life.

I miss myself the most. Not the person I was. No. But the feelings that comprised that person, the perspectives and perceptions and accents on the objects that my eyes lingered on.