Things differently to me, but sometimes the same.
This wonderful woman, who sometimes I “catch” in her interweaving electronically with my life. She lives in Berlin but dreams about a cafe around the corner from my home. We sometimes listen to the same music, but I don’t think that that’s saying much, but it feels comforting.
I think that she has sewn beautiful patches on all the parts of her that are torn, and that has made things far more lovely than they were, even to begin with.
eleanor j jackson 