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  • Dear Cupcake:

    this feeling i get, like on a sunny day listening to slow jazz, a lingering saxophone, and the house is empty, i have just finished cleaning the kitchen, and i am satisfied, and when i look outside, and i see a young couple walking, hand in hand, my heart breaks, i don't even know if it is out of joy, or envy, it is just so beautiful, the way sometimes their shadows will touch, and there is also this feeling that arises, that this moment is all there is and will ever be, and that even if i were to die, at exactly this same moment, i would be content and grateful that i had the experience of this life, grateful even to all the pain, the despair, the yearning, the frustration, that somehow it was all worth it, just to hear a sound, a car, a bird, my own breath, or to see, the color red, an old lover, a woman on a bicycle, and to feel, even what you don't want to feel, or to think, to doubt, where did this all come from, what colluded to produce me, and my experience of this moment, and all my memories, like riding a bicycle in Amsterdam, or swimming in a mountain lake with the scent of pine trees, or the fretful nights studying for a final exam, or in Berlin, at the kitchen table, sobbing after a breakup, a soggy croissant in Fresno, the most delicious scrambled eggs in Barcelona, walking along the Ramblas, my wallet stolen in Saigon, and the faces of old lovers who have vanished, all those memories, jumbled together, all these faces and vistas, they crowd inside of me, and i can feel it all pulsing, and alive, each moment, like a flower, blooming and withering, into infinity, fields of flowers, dying, or birthing, and then i begin to weep, but this time, i know it is really, really, because of joy, i am alive, i am life, love, loving itself.


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