Dear Fur. December, 2018.
My darling and truest Fur,Ā
I hope you are keeping warm up there in that city that never sleeps. This morning the heat went out at work and I couldnāt feel my feet and then I remembered that it wasnāt long ago that I suffered that nothing-there-sensation constantly and I felt grateful for warmer times.
Iām realizing that I havenāt been accounting for much with words or images or any lasting thing lately. Itās all flexible and moves right through me- so much so that the act of putting language to what is happening in here and with me feels muted and like something I cannot reach- ah, thereās a word for that too I supposeĀ āunattainableā but not that is not quite it either.Ā
Most of these days I feel stupid and ashamed that I have yet to produce any single thing of note.Ā
But also I know what it means to be loved.
To be loved so extraordinarily and tenderly well.Ā
All the love Iāve been given, I hope to one day return to you.
Always, even in icy waters, yours-