122 ostensibly young people in celebration of a single letter written with a certain unearned familiarity and which reads like a sun-warmed song of gratitude for a loved one held long and fast to the busom!, but is in fact a song in praise of no one, in awe of no thing, addressed to no specific object of affection. It’s some sort of tease; these words extending outwards and reaching at you like some asshole ghost of intimacy.
Thank you for these words of encouragement, they’re writing. It was exactly what I needed to hear.
