dear internet,

a&w, heaven or las vegas, amelia. xiao long bao. a green darker than light but lighter than olive. the rokeby venus. the baby being carried on down floral street, who, when i smiled at him, replied emphatically, “buh.” losing my family in a bookstore. reaching across the table to pick food off each other’s plates. four adventures of reinette and mirabelle. a spring wedding: champagne, heels sinking into grass, confetti collecting in the bride’s train, my father letting a ladybird wander from his hand onto mine. abbott elementary. clack of my boots on cobblestone. the lord’s prayer in st paul’s cathedral. acqua alpes 2677. salted caramel ice cream in the precious stretch of time before the wasps and the melting. sitting on a countertop dangling my legs while my friend cooks dinner. vodka tonic. the americans. tulips so large and deeply-coloured that they felt obscene. stale haribo. when i got home everything had changed, the flare of first spring now muted; “it’s all green now,” said my flatmate yesterday, “and you missed it.”

love,
t