Beautiful People

All at once I awoke from this dream:

You standing there in another language, one I don't speak mixed with one I've convinced myself to know. Purple dress like the lilacs I love at home. But here in the winter they would wilt at once and the fragrace, turn sour into something I do not know. With a friend you spoke, to me translated. It is like being retarded, to understand something after the fact. And then there were the drinks, the money, the drunk stupor I stumbled into walking home with the nameless nomad of a dog I don't know.

I miss home though, and the people and places that summer brings warmth to. The weather here leaves me wondering how the lakes are and apples and friends, I know you all must be well, you had better be. But I say, "you are beautiful" in French, of all tongues, and I mean it, though I'm not sure you get my point. You are good and honest and you bid me good night as I sit typing my heart out. Alright. Another day comes this moring, it's late. But I see it as early, I'll awake and you'll be here and we'll adventure on all day and forget when we're done, where we are from, what the past has forgiven us, what the future has to offer. We'll take everything for nothing and do as we wish.

On the wooden trolley car that ran on the subway I saw people who did not understand a word that we said. From C line to D line we wandered the city from the underground before rising above for the view. Tomorrow I plan on exploring by bus in this beautiful city that spares no expense. My pockets have dried up and the bus is best to see sights in the city with folks I don't know.

After this I'm off to Chile to visit some friends from BC and hopefully get some powder in. Can't wait to shred!!

Love,

Sean