I close my eyes and I see us in a high rise, the tallest in the world. I don’t know why but it is this way between us. Always a highrise like that time in the 40s, or was it in the 30s that you took a photo of me on a balcony in New York, also a high rise, as my arms stretched up toward the heavens.
Sometimes I wish you would love me that way again as you did when you would keep all of my paintings for yourself.
I think we need a fort with a courtyard, like the ones in India, to raise orphans from around the world. The heart has room but spacetime does not.