Thank You

words are failing me again, dear. once more you've rendered me speechless. you disarm me when I least expect it. it wasn't until I met you that I knew how a person could be truly disarming. i'm not good enough for the credit you give me and you're so much better than what you let yourself believe. you look so lost, so broken, but you're so much more whole than you realise. you're so much more found than you know. if i'm a painting, then it's an abstract. just bright colours thrown onto canvas, no real definition, no meaning except in the eyes of the beholder. open for interpretation. attention catching, but ultimately undefined. but your sketch is lovely. graceful lines lifting into the notes that you play so easily, like they're your second skin. subtle, but defining shadings. no one would dare try to frame you-everyone knows you would just break out of it eventually. besides, no frame would be good enough. of course you can take up residence in my head. and i would be honoured to do the same in yours. we'll call it even, no? we fit well; nearly perfectly, i would say. it's unsettling, but some things need to end before others can begin. other things in my life have ended but this is a new beginning and i'm looking forward to it all. no looking back now; we don't need another pillar of salt. facing forward, hand in hand, life dances on. thank you for reminding me of that.

you're amoozing, il mia amica della Boemia

love, life, beauty, friendship,

Q