March 28, 2019

My dearest,

The weather is starting to turn. Summer is arriving soon. By April, Bangkok will be a greenhouse of sweaty faces and body, unbearable.

We tell ourselves to persevere even as we perspire in sync with the masses, washed and unwashed alike (Q: How many showers a day when it’s this hot? A: Never enough.), that by April, we will escape to South America, to the cool plains and mountains of Patagonia.

And so we will. But for now we are here and we endure. The heat, the humidity, the ever present sense that we are still here and not there. Not yet.

Maybe that’s the gift of summer (or almost summer). To remind us we are still here and to be present for the present. We can’t miss it, not for all the perspiration in Bangkok, not for anything in the world.

It’s you and me, you and me, you and me, here, here, here.

Yours, ever and always.