June 11, 2016

My dearest,

Before me a cup — ceramic, white, smooth — and outside sheets of black telephone cables hang like laundry. We are tanned from walking all day, from one soi to the next, scrambling to find the right change for the BTS ticket machine, getting lost and feeling happy when we do so.

Our smiles stretch like a field of gold.

The map of Bangkok is an album of our footsteps, our sweat, and our lascivious gazing at local eye candy. We are getting old, but why bother grieving about it, when there are days like these? Oh what a day, my dear. What a lovely day.

Yours, ever and always.