Dangerous Compassions


I’m making old rice and enjoying a rainy day. 

Yesterday I got a letter that shocked me with its welcomeness.  I think I said, “Holy shit!” when I saw it tucked in with the junk.

My correspondent used two stamps because they’re 37 cent disney stamps.  I never knew her handwriting.  I read it twice.  I’m doing a thing I didn’t do for a long time: not wanting to throw away the envelope.  As if one scrap of her handwriting was too precious for the trash.

Well, you better believe I’m replying today, choosing my words, listening to Joanna Newsom and drinking the now-cold chai Ming made me this morning before he left for his icon painting job.  I mean class.

Back to the icon salt mines.  They thin the paint with holy water, Ming said.  “No way,” I said.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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