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[text] Moving through Moscow on my way to Finland.
[text] These motherfuckers still make Chesterfields.
[text] Thought of you. Here’s to the darkness only getting so loud.
[text] Scandinavia this time of year is a no go for me. Shame.
[text] Here you've almost got me feeling nostalgic.
[text] How's the road, wanderer? Lonely or lonesome?
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What are your feelings on Reese?
"Reese?" he asked confused. "I don't- Unless we are talking about a ghost from the past. He was a simmering presence in the background, but vocal enough to let himself be known. I often did not understand him or could not level with his comprehension of the world. Of mortality. Immortality. His wide smile either invited to be returned or to be punched. I recall doing neither."
Wait, you're relationship with Reese isn't just friends?
I'm just friends with a few people. Reese among them.
It's been a long immortality.
Sometimes there's music thudding louder than your heartbeat and a hard body to shove against the nearest surface.
How would you fight to get your lover back?
I’d start with an apology.
I’d…try to rebuild the trust we had in each other.
I’d somehow prove to him that I’m not obsessed with all this…
That I’m not going to psychoanalyse him.
That I’m not going to bring all this home.
Everything else…I’d be flying by the seat of my pants with. I don’t know where he’s been or his life now…I don’t know anything other than the memories I have from more than a hundred years ago.
And that’s assuming he wants anything to do with me.
Would you try to get him back, if you could?
Of course I would. If given the chance, I would certainly try.
But Reese has managed to stay hidden from me for a century. He hasn’t wanted me to find him.
I don’t blame him for that. I hurt him, badly.
It is my greatest regret.
I owe him more than just a simple apology, but that is where I would start.
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Surely something about Reese irritated you or made you annoyed?
Oh, Reese is an absolute slob.
He leaves his clothes everywhere.
Socks? On the floor.
It’s a wonder he had any clothes to wear at all, sometimes.
Oh, and the ashtray? I was the only one emptying it.
It’s a good thing we don’t eat, because I wonder about the amount of trash that man may have generated, if so.
You're still in love with him, aren't you
Oh mystery person, I never stopped.
Nearly a century of memories and love cannot and will not simply vanish even if another century has already passed.
He is imprinted upon my heart.
I doubt he wants anything to do with me after all this time, but if I ever got the opportunity, I’d have much to say to him…
