August 17, 2019

My dearest,

Dark clouds and a burning sun outside: A contradiction as we sit at the window sill. Wooden planks shellacked a rusty red. Mirroring the oxidising metal cloaking the entire building.

There is a name for this colour: rufous. Also the name of that café we visited in Taipei more years ago than we remember. And this, here, another café. Red Diamond. (More russet hues; there must be a pattern, it must be a sign, or else everything is.)

We drink drip coffee with names like Ethiopia Guji Shakiso (berry notes, brewed by Nino) and Panama Geisha Esmerelda (natural process, the barista’s Korra and he’s drawn a smiley face and written “Nice day”, which does bring a grin to my lips, yes).

So here we sit, you and I always a contradiction in our separate histories and outlooks and the very languages we dream in, and yet it’s just as true that whenever dark clouds threaten, you are my burning sun, you are the one to draw a smiley face upon my lips.

Every day with you is a nice day, precious and good and nice.

Yours, ever and always.