Article voiceover
The tower never manages to pierce the sky, which is lilac-silver, peaches, mist, and always deserving of a mention in this longer, desperate month. Summer is on the way. We must get happy, or else. . Sometimes, when I'm just about ready to fall asleep, I picture you on your feet, moving through the muggy air on the other side of this world, feeding the plants, testing the sweetness of the plums. . I remember your fingers, the strength of them, and swoon a little. God! I crave your smell; your body's surprising weight. We were marvelous during that summer in Well St, remember? Before we used our heads on each other. Before we had something to prove. . I hope you get more sleep these days, and that your nights are filled with the kind of heat we left each other for. As for me, well, I'm trying to learn how best to enjoy what's in front of me. Or I try. At least I try. . I just don't think we're built to understand Love and its Function until it is lost/missed/gone/ reimagined. These inventions of someone like you are half-dream, barely reliable.
Dear Yrsa,
Beautiful. What a love story.
With deep gratitude,
Rodrigo
lilac-silver, peaches, mist.... my goodness, gorgeous words!
So enjoyed hearing you read with your soothing honesty.