Lost Byzantium
I dreamed last night about a friend, someone who drifted away a few years ago. In my dreams, he'd come back, and we were trying to pick up the friendship where we'd left off.
Words
Burning before me
It was always an odd one, in part because of distance and in part because of cultural differences. We had some grand old times chatting, though, demonstrating IDIC and trading jokes.
Laughter weaving through dim restriction
We told each other stories, after a fashion, and he even came to visit for a while. But then he stopped writing, growing silent. I don't know why. I probably said something, did something wrong; in the end I don't really understand human relationships, and I likely screwed something up without even realizing it. But no reason was ever given me.
rain-washed glass
A blur of aspects
I did warn him; sooner or later, these things happen, and it's not always anyone's fault. People change and move on. I can feel a little hurt, perhaps, but not too much.
But I can't help wondering what happened. And apparently the spot's still a little tender, since the dream still nags at me now.
In lighter news, I made my elderly dignified cat do the scratch-at-air thing that one usually only manages when rubbing a doggie belly. Always amusing!