My Dearest Dale,


Seated upon this vast space, occupying each day passing, stand you and I. Above the many monotonous hues of blue and far through the deep set areas from which most fail to notice, is our most perfect paradise. You and I, surrounded by the many, live secluded in a world exemplary in passion. Our place, our most beloved escape, exists merely in our own existence together. A place where melodies are made and couches are most comfortable. Where we can lay beneath the suns extensive welcome. Where we tower humanity and seclude the despondent. Our paradise in our own kitchens and bedrooms. Showers and love making.


What is love for just a near symmetrical column, held high with boughs and laden with tender yearning. [A column most superior when in fond agreement.] You and I continue the rigorous hike north of today, ascending and conquering every sudden slip. With each small fall, comes a lesson for the next unexpected. The column less challenging and the effort content. Yet, if one side grows more rapidly, the other trails helplessly behind. A symmetrical column, each side bearing equally supported weight in continuation of its flourish north.


Daniela