Dear Wigleaf,

I hope this message reaches you. I've sent it off with my girlfriend and sometimes she gets distracted by the lives of strangers tucked away comfortably behind their great big windows that open over our busy street. She tells me she likes to walk through their gardens while they have their lunches and pick for herself whatever may be the greenest. It's a game she happily plays.

But from my window nothing is green. From where I'm sitting it's a different season and it's northern and gothic and shut in 24/7, it's an assault on creativity and even when the agora is open to play, it's now too loud so I lie on my couch and watch the walls vibrate and sometimes close in on me like a fucking garbage compactor. There's that worm and he gets bigger and bigger feeding on my boredom and he makes the rules and he's virtual this and virtual that and well yeah... I'm tired.

I guess I should chin up eh, just stick my hat on, and my gloves, and my mask, crack the door a little, breathe in some of that frigid winter air, and step out.

Until we can hold hands again,

I miss that

Sacha