I miss you so so much. The random waves of sadness I feel from you being gone have really been getting to me lately. When it’s 2:53am (how ironic) and I’m up and bored, I just know that you would have responded to any text I would send. I’ve been having crazy..almost toxic? dreams that I wish I could tell you about. What I wouldn’t give to drive over, make some nachos, and sit around your living room just laughing with you. I’m still so mad at you for what you did and mad at you for leaving your daughter. The stress and trauma we have all gone through has been insane. So much so that I lost my voice for a bit. Not that it matters really but I just want you to know that. I miss you a lot a lot a lotttttttt. In the weirdest / most random times. I just replay every memory we’ve ever had together or imagine what you would say if I came to you with whatever problem I’m having. You’re truly and idiot but I love you so much. I’ll cherish every picture I can find of us and make sure my son never bullies your daughter (he is a mini version of me though so no promises lol).
Out of all the times i’ve seen this I never paid this any attention until now. WHERE IN THE WORLD DID THE THE GUY WITH TWO DIFFERENT SOCKS ON GO?? HE JUMPED IN THE AIR AND DISSAPEARED????????
The guy in the black socks knees bend right as the guy with two different socks jumps and disappears… I think he picked him up and ran out of the room ðŸ˜
A handwritten note, scrawled in Arabic on a torn cigarette pack, was discovered on the ground last week in Pozzallo as migrants filed off a ship. It was from someone initialed “A” to someone else initialed “R.”
“I wanted to be with you,” read the note. “Don’t you dare forget me. I love you very much. My wish is for you not to forget me. Be well my love. A loves R. I love you.”
كلمات عربية مكتوبة بخط اليد على غلاف علبة سجائر ممزقة عُثر عليها بعد إنقاذ مركب لمهاجريين غير شرعيين لإيطاليا من أ لـ ر
“How many thousands have I spent on perfume and alcohol, cigarettes and Turkish baths, disappointing trips and third-class movies; how many months in silent bars or parks, expecting, in a chair with a book not reading, or waiting in line, waiting in line? Who will tell me it’s a loss when I know life must be for pleasure? The parks were balanced by museums, the baths by oceans, bars by composition, and the dreaming chair by books finished. Nothing is waste that makes a memory.”
— Ned Rorem, The Paris Diary & The New York Diary: 1951-1961
