You defy gravity. While I travel the lakes in our, my, modest house boat, I write and scribble and calculate all the little monumental observations of my grand open surroundings, yet the spell you cast spins everything out of comprehension.
The stars sparkle right before my eyes, while the granite lands in the horizon stretch out beyond my reach for an eternity. Lines actually curve. Roundness pokes me with an edge. And water feels dry as silk on my skin.
You own me, Estelle. Nothing I do will miss you. No matter how I try to escape I somehow fall into your arms again, even out here, on the Beagle. Beyond logic, in a stupefying scientific wonder, I annex my heart to your soul, not to your heart, no, I should be so lucky. If I struggle against this connection, my DNA rebels, mutating to suit your demands, your hold on me.
I am such a coward! A coward! I try to hate you but fail. Can’t you see? Somehow your essence runs through my blood like an itchy disease. The more I scratch the worse it hurts, but it stings with such a dizzy pleasure I could pass out drunk from the intoxication. I need a cure from you, Estelle. I need the ability to wander freely about this life with no snares, no traps, no stickiness. My geodesic journeys take me to places where species speak to me and share their history, like jewels exposing their creation story for me and only me, but I can’t hear them. Your breath circumnavigates around this planet and takes control over it all. You reflect off a fish scale, smile back from a finches beak, and echo off the bear’s growl. It hurts, Estelle.
And may I never figure out how to solve this mind-wrenching equation and forever feel your cobweb stick.
Farewell with love,
Assignment: Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What jumps out at you? Start there, and try a twist: write in the form of a letter. I read pages 29 to first, Jean Paul Sartre’s “No Exit,” then of “A Brief History Of Time” by Stephen W. Hawking, and Irving’s “The World According To Garp” and finally of “The Beak and The Finch” by Jonathan Weiner. I kinda cheated and got inspiration from multiple pages of words. Four Page 29’s got me this. I too am frightened by this brain of mine.