I’ve been craving a certain kind of tiny love letter these days. One that says, I see it and you over there. I feel you. Do you feel my hand? The easy and not at all complex— even for a moment—kind of letter. I kept on craving and found it in myself and on my clothes early one evening.
It was an open shirt dress with the wind on my belly, saying, I am touching you.
It was my skirt moving through a jubilant Brooklyn street, saying, I am going to move alongside you.
It was the bow on a pair of espadrilles saying, I am going to hold you.
Sometimes, the letters are right there. They don’t need our searching.
Any love letters of your own? I would love to hear.
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