dear internet,

green grass dotted with plastic bags. the sea from the lighthouse, the same as the sea from anywhere, and from above the people on the beach making shapes with their movement: semicircle of two men walking, diagonal of a crow’s flight. first cup of morning coffee made by someone else. the verandah tile warm on my bare legs, just this side of burning. crackling smell of mosquitos slaughtered by the bat. a trio of orioles skimming just over the surface of the water, again and again, a shock of yellow too fleeting and perfect to bother capturing on camera. the woman on my train who knitted all the way there, and the man who played candy crush all the way back. in a secondhand bookstore a paperback with my name on the last page, singapore, temporary stalls outside thomson plaza. car rides soundtracked by a radio station playing a top 40s show from the 80s. post-its on my cupboard, to-do lists from decades ago making promises i still haven’t kept. every evening the crossword in dim living-room light. one day a rainbow over the worst river in the city, and we stood in sludge with the sewage smells and the sound of traffic, rain falling through sunshine, and watched a kite carve across the clouds.

love,
t