Postcards (2)
Bran,
I should've known that writing one postcard was going to make me want to write you another. It's like everything else with you--I get started, thinking it's a one time deal, and then I don't want to stop.
This picture makes me think of you for a completely different reason than the one from Wales. Can you guess why? I'll tell you, in case you haven't realized just how much you've infiltrated my mind.
When I first came to London, I was impressed--it's like New York, but cleaner. Older. And the people are nicer. They actually seem to care if you walk into the middle of the street in front of an oncoming car.
Now when I see London, it's like the picture--not quite right. It's tilted and discolored, because my world isn't the same without you. I'm off balance, missing that thing that could keep me upright, missing that thing that makes me see the world in bright colors.
I hope you're happy.
I love you.
Ephram