Letter 26

Dearest Josephine,

You said: It seems our conversations lack the concrete.
I said: I do not understand what you mean.
You said: You always speak in riddles.
I said: We all speak in codes.
You said: For you -- morse code, or some other intangible, nearly obsolete language.
I said: Would you rather I told you -- today I went to the grocery store. I almost bought eggs but then I decided to buy tomatoes and pre-packaged beets.?
You said: Why did you not buy eggs.
I said: Because I did not want to buy cheese and bread.
You said: I'm framing this conversation.
I said: It's already been manipulated into a square.
You said: I want a rectangle - squares are too uniform.
I said: And two long lines and two short ones is not?
You said: Tell me about your evening.
I said: You're not asking the right questions.
You said: Tell me something that you fear.
I said: Intimacy.
You said: Tell me about your parent's divorce.
I said: Yes, now you understand.

We must catalogue these snippets. I see an island growing between the rectangle and the significance of parting.

l.c.