(photo from Matthew Porterfield's HAMILTON)Dearest,
You've never had the pleasure of doing so but I was recently noticing that my bedroom is a wonderful place to wake up. Perhaps I've always taken it for granted, my mornings are usually a time when I grudgingly awake just to jump in the shower and speed off to work, but just today things caught me by surprise. For starters, the light is just perfect. A five dollar purchase of some thin red curtains has turned the sunlight to honey. You realize that it's morning without having to be blasted awake with a forced recognition. This creates a nice cobble stone pathway from dreams to lucidity that's just long enough to carry a lemon tinged dream or two into reality with you. The walls alongside my bed feature a few posters of Pedro Almodovar films that carry his signature mixed colors and textured lettering, opening your eyes to this kaleidoscope works well with the painting on the back of your eyelids, filled as they are with a map of the cosmos that glows and sparkles with the power of REM. Lately the temperature of the morning has been just right. If you catch a chill the cat will probably wrap your feet in his fur and purr to a slight massage.
Without you here I'm been sleeping diagonally: head North-East, feet South-West. With you I'd be sure to give you pick of your favorite side and latitudinal preference. I imagine that with you on my side waking up every morning would take on an even greater pleasure. I'd welcome the slight change in temperature and scent of your shampoo on the pillowcase. The beating of your heart and the wisps of your breath a lovely mix to the chirps of birds outside who, though they can fly, will never be lucky enough to experience what I would every day. Though I'm sure branches and leaves would feel like cotton candy with you there at eight o'clock every morning.
