Selin calls, whimpering. In a shaky, flu-stricken voice, she tells me that she’s in love, that she’s terrified. Of course, upon hearing this touching news, a good friend quips. And every time I make her laugh, she coughs and cries some more. We are either joy wrapped in sorrow or sorrow wrapped in joy. The difference? Thin as soap film. * I go to the beach; I hug people I love; I look at the clouds and do not think about touching them; I wake up right before my alarm, afraid to close my eyes again; I clean the kitchen yet fruitflies still hum around the bruised bananas; I embrace humidity and learn to read the mushy pages; I talk to someone interesting and think this could be love, again; I sit on the rock, and for a moment there is just the blue heron. -- Written on December 9th in Santa Eulalia del RÃo, Ibiza
