Dear Wigleaf,

Whenever I put cheese on a cracker, I check to see which side of it is saltier. Usually I can tell just by looking, but sometimes, especially if it's late and the tv is on, I have to lick it a little. The less salty side gets the cheese.

The first time I kissed my love in the ocean his lips tasted like olive brine. Years later, we visited a pink salt spa in a strip mall. The room was dimly lit and rosy. We sat in recliners, breathing and listening to the sounds of other people breathing.

I read somewhere that the Dead Sea isn't a sea but a lake, and the water level is dropping almost four feet per year. It's 15% shallower today than it was fifty years ago. As the water disappears, the salt gets left behind, hardening into rounded mounds that look like ossified jellyfish.

The thing I am trying to say, Wigleaf, is I'm worrying again about the consequences of love. Wigleaf, I am afraid I can't take in the beauty of a clear night sky without feeling anxious about how the moon's been drifting further and further away. Can you?

I hope you can.

xo,
a