20 janeiro 2010

b-day gift


Esta é uma carta (papel, caneta) que queria publicar há algum tempo aqui, mas que por razões de desordem doméstica se manteve embaixo de jornais velhos por tempo indeterminado.

Achei-a ontem de manhã, e considero que relê-la foi o meu melhor presente de aniversário.

Aimee, I hope this doesn't pisses you off. All my love, zuccherinno.

"To say 'thank you for your hospitality' does not even begin to approximate the appropriate gratitude that I have for all that you have done for me. You have opened your heart, home and (literally) couch, despite all of the fireflies twinkling chaos in your brain, and have made me feel so welcome and at peace in your city and with your friends.

Business first - I have no idea what my 'tab' is at this point, but I can only imagine that with the SIM card, the meals, the taxis, it is something like this. If it's not enough, please let me know. I also left some pesos to get you started on your holidays =) Maybe they can help you with the taxi from the airport or something.

And now, to the pleasure that it has been spending this time with you. It is rare to find someone whom you can tell anything to with the confort that, at the very least, you won't feel any worse for having shared with them. No judgment, just the knowing eyea of a friend. When we find these people, these easy friendships, they are like cosmic puzzles pieces - it just fits, pretty much immediately.
I have love and respect in my heart for you, and I'm more than proud to call you my friend, my puzzle.

I know that there are not easy times for you, and I'm no strange to the feeling of helplessness when our own chemistry betrays us. I can only say that in dark and not-so-dark times, all we can do is march in a sort of Zeno's Paradox, ever closer to the goal, whatever it is, but always half the distance to it.

The important thing is the illusion od momentum, the one foot in front of the other. It's the thing that keep us going; that our hearts beating like a metronome, keeping time to whatever our souls are singing.

I know, deeply, that with enough footsteps, your soul's tune will stop being so damn Elliott Smith. Until the Mob Project, Adieu. xoxo Aimee



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