Unhurried Tongues and the Slow, Delicious Hum of Anticipation
A perfect night of not quite
‘I’m thinking about buying a canoe,’ he writes at 4 am, ‘so I can paddle across the Great Lakes and find you.’ But it’s 3 am where I live and the space between us is simply too wide.
Back and forth, we send texts like signal flares in the middle of the night. Sleep is elusive because a…