Dear Bridget, All the Cities Are Different; So Are All the Lives.

Dear Bridget,

This is your city from the air:

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This is my city, but from my point of view, and not from everyone else’s:

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And this is the biggest city, all lights, only at night:

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So you see, they’re all different. All the people in all the places all have their own normal. Everyone thinks that their normal is the best, probably. Kind of like everyone loves their own bed the best. Just because it’s their own. But it’s nice to sleep in a hotel bed sometimes, too.

You drove to Chicago once, just like Sufjan says. I have a lot to say lately, but can’t say a lot of what I have to say. I know that you know how that feels. Did you like cherry life-savers as a child? I think probably everyone did. Once I got a set of all different types of rolls of lifesavers for Christmas. I was allergic to red dye number 40, so my mom gave away the roll of exclusively cherry lifesavers to a man at her work whose name was Sparky. His real name was Michael, and his wife’s name was Dawn. I was sad, because I knew what the cherry lifesavers tasted like (i.e. heaven), but I wasn’t allowed to have them, because they made me hurl red barf everywhere. I’m not allergic to red dye number 40 anymore. I outgrew it, I guess, just like you outgrow a lot of things that used to define who you are. If you know what I mean.

Sorry I missed your call last night. I had low battery.

You’re my favorite person who lives in San Francisco.

This picture reminds us of who we are, as people.

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I love you more than I love grapefruit leinenkeugels,

Anna

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