Re: postcards: bread and butter
[Since they've gone rather abstract, Bread sends a pastel sketch. No gallery is noted, but it appears to be real.]
You were forced to give up what you love? That is a sad thing. I'm glad you can love what you do now, but what forced you to give up what you did before? You say we're all replaceable - were you replaced?
I think of myself of having a 'grudge thing,' as you put it, even if I don't have manyt grudges. I've been told I'm more tenacious about them than most, or at least more than most other people in my life. Thank you, Butter. I don't think about it very often anymore.
What a beautiful mix of people and places. Hookups, music schools, gyms, clubs. You lead a full life, it seems to me. Does it feel that way?
Discriminate is a good word. I choose carefully. You might call me picky, despite feeling desperate, sometimes. I would love to be loved. I would love to be first in someone's affections. But if I don't love them back, even that distinction can't hold things together for long.
Nowhere, it was just a turn of phrase. I suppose you made me lean into poetry, and I blame you entirely.