I sometimes wonder if I only exist in the rain. It’s
strange, but I feel most alive when it rains, and outside of it, I slip away
like I was never real to begin with. I try to find it in the sunlight, but it
never feels the same. What comes up in you when the rain begins to fall?
P.S. I’ve saved your letters for breakfast. After
that, I treat myself to some good old-fashioned equations. Oh, and I might be
writing a novel too.
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