I read your piece in a magazine that I found somewhere, probably this weird coffee shop my friend took me to, where you have to walk down this narrow alley to get in and then it’s just one big room with a guy running around filling up people’s cups with whatever concoction he’s just brewed up, and there are like seventy five cats just lying in the slashes of sunlight coming in from the windows that face this strange forgotten little courtyard that no one could access, at least from what I could tell, when I pressed my cheeks up against the glass and looked all around.
Anyway, where I read it isn’t important.
There was a line, shit; of course, now I have to go and forget the specific line, when I’d been repeating it over and over to myself ever since I first read it. I flagged the coffee giver down after first seeing it and asked if he had a pen, and then he said he didn’t believe in pens, that this was a pen free space, not only pen free, but there was to be no writing instruments, ever, in this little space he had carved out in the world.
I almost stole the magazine, but felt like people were watching me, after the pen ordeal, so I started repeating the line, to memorize it, but I guess somewhere along the way I stopped and something else happened and I forgot.
I don’t even know your name, never even occurred to me to up a little and see the story by credit, I was just enraptured by the that combination of four or five words or whatever it was, but I do think it was short. I’m going about this in the longest way possible, but basically all I wanted you to know was that something you wrote resonated with me.
Thanks for that.
So I figured I’d write this and send it out into the universe and maybe, somehow, you would find it and know.