family
Morning silence. Steam dances out of full tea cups, the persistent sound of bristles urging days past off the stairs and out of the hallways. Waking, thinking silence in the cupped hands of faint choir voices living shortly like ghosts over the relief landscape.
I met your brother last night, L. He joined us for dinner, a RED potluck, we talked about Armenia. You probably already know this – and everything else I wanted to say, everything else that happened. He is a beautiful person. Like you. I simply wanted you to know that… And that we think of you. Infinitely fondly.
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