...may your tender feet find the mossiest rocks. We are all bankside to the bright waters somehow. Even where I sit, the neighbor's front yard exotics against the pastel striations of smog at twilight. Beautiful here. Beautiful there. Toes in gutters. Toes in brooks. Toes in gossip rags. Toes in books. Welcome. There's plenty of room. Never doubt it. Noses touching as I breathe this into your mouth. Believe me? Hot breath. You must...
....They are all bright. Even the lurid fathoms. Bright with purpose in this world. Turn the rock in your hand. Keep turning it. Eventually every crevice will take the light.
More soon,
Yours (bright is as dark does) truly
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