Rarely do the good smiles record right. As rare as full moons lighting up calendar squares. You must be hanging off the wall so much or else you’d want to come and see me. Well, windows understand me here. Pulling light in as I wish. It is the opposite of your museum, which can only bring things out from walls. Do you remember Oaxaca? The thin clothes we drank in, shadows burglarized by night by cobblestone thieves. The best part of re-seeing things is choosing the memory you take from there. And then you can wonder if something ever was.
OK, well I’ll go now. The begonias are bursting and becoming. Playthings for my eyes. I am running out of —