Letters to a New Generation
Letters to L
Dear L,
Today I walked through the drizzling rain with my ipod and camera. I took pictures of the approaching autumn – robins practicing for flight, grasses yellowing with the sudden chill that creaps over everything at nighttime and leaves my room very cold in the early mornings. The sky was an odd mix of light blue and gray, with clouds that streaked across in distant layers mixed with sunlight. If you were there with me, I would have pulled a midnight-blue knitted cap over your ears and made you hold my hands to keep them warm. That's love.
- A
Dear L,
You should know something about me: I like to be spontanious when in the mood for adventure. And sometimes there come these odd times when I want to prove to the world that I can go against the norm with no hesitations. . . that the things you're taught and told don't have to be the only ways. I want to open eyes. There's controversy, sure, but it doesn't need to be controversial. That's love.
- A
Dear L,
I don't even have to know you to say that I love you unconditionally. Really, I do, because I've read about this sort of thing before and I've even felt it too. It's crazy how much it doesn't hurt at all. How could it hurt? Unless I get attached, which is silly. If you move, tire of me, or die... that's not going to change anything inside myself. My insides are purely bliss. I merely want to shower you with that same inner contentment, and lift you up high until you can smile freely even on the most pressing of days. That's love.
- A
Dear L,
I can see myself living with you in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, with a glamourous garden. In the mornings I'll open my eyes and you'll be right there, right next to me. I'll be totally in that moment, every morning. The sunlight, the air, the skin, your eyes. Maybe I might pull you close and breathe you in because you're so handsome just the way you are. No preparations, no showers, no combs or brushes or spray-on scents. No razors or washers or fashion sense. Just you. That's love.
- A
Today I walked through the drizzling rain with my ipod and camera. I took pictures of the approaching autumn – robins practicing for flight, grasses yellowing with the sudden chill that creaps over everything at nighttime and leaves my room very cold in the early mornings. The sky was an odd mix of light blue and gray, with clouds that streaked across in distant layers mixed with sunlight. If you were there with me, I would have pulled a midnight-blue knitted cap over your ears and made you hold my hands to keep them warm. That's love.
- A
Dear L,
You should know something about me: I like to be spontanious when in the mood for adventure. And sometimes there come these odd times when I want to prove to the world that I can go against the norm with no hesitations. . . that the things you're taught and told don't have to be the only ways. I want to open eyes. There's controversy, sure, but it doesn't need to be controversial. That's love.
- A
Dear L,
I don't even have to know you to say that I love you unconditionally. Really, I do, because I've read about this sort of thing before and I've even felt it too. It's crazy how much it doesn't hurt at all. How could it hurt? Unless I get attached, which is silly. If you move, tire of me, or die... that's not going to change anything inside myself. My insides are purely bliss. I merely want to shower you with that same inner contentment, and lift you up high until you can smile freely even on the most pressing of days. That's love.
- A
Dear L,
I can see myself living with you in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, with a glamourous garden. In the mornings I'll open my eyes and you'll be right there, right next to me. I'll be totally in that moment, every morning. The sunlight, the air, the skin, your eyes. Maybe I might pull you close and breathe you in because you're so handsome just the way you are. No preparations, no showers, no combs or brushes or spray-on scents. No razors or washers or fashion sense. Just you. That's love.
- A