Dear H,

The [confidentialxxinformation] is emBEDded.
I have declared this email a
state of microemergency
*Can you hear me?*
*Can you hear me?*
I can see you:
living inside of a magnifying glass
I vividly imagine you screaming………………………….

Out here,
We're making a world inside a wurld
We believe that we can still make it
Out here;
attempting to organize
A landscape of desire
Based on new algorithms
Refusal of defined contextual fabrics
And the belief of a fractal body;
Or should I say
A spliced body
Tenderly coaxed back into itself;
{And into itself
And into itself
And into itself
And into itself
And into itself}
Old dead things left
Reconfigured and renamed
It's okay
I've still got you
I've still got you
I've got you babe… (is playing off some broken radio)

I'm playing a melody of my/your "illness" back 2 you
With a fucked piano that's leaning against a broken wall in this structure whose previous use value was a heterodyanamic family life incubator now housing runaways....

Here learning in our current chemical environment
When our immune system attacks itself
It is actually just giving us information
disease is a reflection of a context
Out here we are recoding the context
To change illness
Coding a virus that attacks the context rather than the server
Okay
Okay
Have I mentioned I still love you?
It's been so long
Okay, O K
Our failed bodies are failing differently
This body is a good body is a bad body is a dead body depending on the context.
Out here I can be a good body every so often.
The virtual space your soft body makes in my life is good.
Looking up a definition of good and coming up short
But you know what I mean;
I miss you

Apologies for my spacey writing… it has been snowing since August cyber bunkers have been iffy...
I hiked South to find a place to send this
Directional signs cut out, GPS went down and we were pretty okay with it mostly.
The idea of the north is a spiral
I eat abandoned canned food and vermin it's hard to grow anything out here but we try coaxing things out of the soil again
Burn piles of trash; waiting for spring was once a relationship with time and has now become a game of chance.
I digress,
When we first met you gave our desire an end date
You were practical in protective ways
bc you knew that bad things were going to happen…
Bad things always happen though.

This separation decreed by the state
Killing ants with magnifying glass
Turned sun to gun
You have tricks up baren sleeves
Our open hands holding nothing but floating data
That codes connections through frayed wires
Are they listening? Watching?
Do I do enough to protect the vast open space between us? Every word is a giveaway of our mutual illegalities and conspiracies.
That said I'll divulge:

I'm coming for you soon
Every so often we infiltrate the city to take new technology and supplies.
You won't recognize me
My body has changed vastly, I barely recognize myself
My voice is the same though, so listen for it;
I'll meet you at that diner we use to go to all the time
You have to be ready to leave at anytime...
I know it's a lot to ask... You don't have to, but you seem so sad in your letters lately…
Maybe it’s a lot to ask, to begin again.
I mostly just asking to meet you again, strictly from our POV presently.
I know you’re different now too…

Out here in the wildness the landscape is harsh and rotten and full of holes and hills and hideaways and runaways
But we're still shiny and laughing... It's like when we were in those meetings and thought we could change the city, before they took your body and your dancing and we would walk and talk for hours imaging possibility inside of the world changing its landscape.... How what they called an end was just a positioning of rhetoric. We were alive and falling apart and full of energy for new ways of being.

Anyway,
I want you here with me
As I said//say: anywhere, anyhow always answer.
See you in an
ENdLess HIRizon LandsKape.

Love, A