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it's so nice how you are and the niceness of it keeps catching me off guard, you just being there how you are, doing it continuously, not stopping. just being that way in rooms and in cars and in the morning when you haven't yet spoken or in the evening when i am trying to read and i am not reading, i have not read a single word, i am just watching how you are from behind a book like some kind of coward and it is so nice how you are and i wish you would never stop it. you were like that yesterday and you were like that last week and presumably you were like that before I knew you, being exactly that way, and no one told me, which seems like an oversight, which seems like information i should have had much earlier. someone really should have pulled me aside at some point in the preceding years and said: listen. there is a person who is going to be this way with you and you are going to need to sit down for it. i did not know that through the days there ran a dividing line, thin as a hair, and that i was on one side of it.


now in this room the window is open and it's cold yes and you are still here under the covers in the warm part of the bed, and i am going for coffee now and i am coming back with them, with the coffees as evidence. i have been wanting to do this since that time in the old room. with the mirrors all the way up the walls, kaleidoscope like, each surface giving you back to me multiplied and slightly different and you coming in holding two mugs not making anything of it. and then later watching something, a film and italian i think, the protagonist brings the coffees in and you said wouldn’t that just be the loveliest thing to do for someone and yes yes yes it is.