Writing them to you feels like the time we used to write these elaborate emails to each other with A. And you have the same first name. But you are not the same. You are challenging me, and this time around, I am taking the challenge seriously. I’m not letting this pass me by. You are wonderful, more than you realize. I love that you love dance, and you read IBS, and are curious about the world. I love that you don’t get dazzled by my emails, and meet me right where I’m at. That you know what it means to write things that are hard to write. You take them and process them, and respond with wit and grace and love. I wish you were living in Berlin. I’d never let go.

I remember sitting in that booth at HAU in 2014, listening to phone calls, with A. It was wonderful. A magnificent time. Sitting there, next to her, being taken away, being attentive. A time of immense joy.

You have the same first name as A. And you are so beautiful. I loved you crying while making love. It was so amazing to hug you and tell you it’s OK. So beautiful to kiss you and hug you and touch you and play with you. I miss those moments so fucking much. And you are fucking crazy in the head, like full on out of your mind, yet smart as fuck and super upfront with your feelings and your needs and wants. You make me want to write you how much I fucking miss you, but I am terrified of what would happen, maybe you won’t respond. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I remember when walking back and you turned to me and wanted a last kiss. It was so beautiful. And I remember looking back at you, when closing the door behind me, you looking at me and me looking at you… Just… beautiful, and heartbreaking. I am afraid, even terrified, that the not even 24h we spent together will be the best 24h I will have this whole year. But I did have it, I was there, we were there, I remember, that trip that we were on, in that bed, on that walk, sitting with you on that bench. It was wonderful.

If I was a Londoner, rich with complaint
Would you take me back to your house
Which is sainted with lust and the listless shade
If I could have held you once more with that light
It’s nothing to you, but it keeps me alive

I used to listen to this while walking to work, thinking of A, wondering if she’d see me again in London. How it would be, to visit her. Some days, I wish I could go back and change things.

You crossed this line
Do you find it hard to sit with me tonight?
I’ve walked these miles, but I’ve walked them straight lined
You’ll never know what it’s like to be
Fine

Maybe we all are. Sad to have wasted them on you. But maybe I learned something. That I don’t know what you are and that whatever you are, you sound like trouble. It was interesting to see you like that, though. Was radical, beautiful, uplifting, eye-opening. Thank you for that.

I should have let you go then. I wander what this feeling is. Is it love? Is it something else? I don’t feel the same I did for DF. But I also know that I haven’t had the time to spend time with AB, in the same room, in a nice environment. I wanna do that. Not sure that’s gonna happen now. I wonder what I want. I wonder if I’m making the same mistake I did many-many years ago with AP. Not being sure of what I feel. Not communicating it. Or maybe I choose people who aren’t available. I’m sorry I’ve dragged all of you through this. I sometimes wish I wasn’t so afraid.

I know I shouldn’t. Also you said that I shouldn’t because you are not ready for another relationship. And I know we are too far apart. But it’s just so nice to see something and immediately want to share it with you. It’s exhilarating to think what you’d say, to hear you being happy about it. I wanna share so many things I find with you, and just wanna discuss endlessly. I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know it’ll lead to nowhere. But the possibility is just so tempting. You are so far, yet so close in my mind. I’ll miss you more than I should, when it’s all over and all I’ll have of you is memories, fragments of happiness, forever stored, the details forgotten but the feelings forever etched into my memory. Miss you, Ann. Miss you.

Being at Centopassi with C., there was a lesbian couple next to us and they made me think of you, Ann. How I wish I could be with you, there, casually touch your hands, like she did, put my hands on your legs. You are so cool. I wish I knew as much about (solar/lunar/polar)punk and cyberphunk as you do. I wish I could hear you talk more about governance, and your findings in this space. And I wish I could be as optimistic about the world, as you are. I wanna get to know you more. I am not sure you feel the same, though. But it’s nice to imagine. One has to look forward to something. I look forward to getting to know you.

I remember being late, embarrassed about being late. And I remember the sadness I felt when you wrote to me, when I was at the airport, that you don’t want to meet again. I wonder why. Nevermind. Just, sad.

Miss you and I don’t want to go without you. It’d remind me of all the things. Biking with you that night was magical. Miss that time so much.