Love Letters

Mademoiselle,

Time zones shape our love. They warp it. They knead it.

Like I need you.

If the story of our love so far were a play in 4 Acts, the program could read:

The North Atlantic

The North Pacific ~ Glengarry Highlands

~Chorus~

Glengarry Highlands ~ The Caribbean Sea

The Caribbean Sea ~ The Alps

~Chorus~

The Alps ~ Frenchman’s Bay

~Chorus~

The Alps ~ The Coral Sea

Intermission

The Coral Sea...

The audience is still waiting in great anticipation for that final act, my actress and peer. The Act currently in performance is of course The Alps ~ The Coral Sea, but it is on its final scene.

But for this Act, I was always living in your past. You would rise and wait for me. I would wake to your words. I woke up to those words-on-a-screen with such delight, forgetting they were not you. Sometimes I would wake so early, that our clocks would somehow mesh. Yet most nights you would fall fast asleep, and I would go for dinner. Then I had the sly advantage, of creative time while you dreamed. I would write you words and words and words; each poignant and so sweet. Alone harmless, but together strong, I liked to think they could fulfil you. But words are really nothing more than tiny vessels for emotion; continent to continent; sea to shining sea; emotions crossing entire oceans to get to you.

The next morning, as the sun rose over your Zugerberg, you would find me in your office. And while you tippity-typed on your keys all day, sound asleep I lay. Over and over the process would go, each one's night blending ceaselessly into the other's day. The cycle is still very much the same, now in this penultimate Act, but the course of time reversed a major role. Twice the time between you and I points to a considerable loss. Windows closed and blinds were tightened. Our times rarely meshed. Now I am the future, living on the new day.

But I am not as stoic as you. Nor as Heroic. Elephant eyes tire early, and I would leave you waiting for her. The other lover, with quick moods. My other life, spent romancing the Sea. Our words became necessity. Communication and material facts. The emotions were still there of course, but the vessels' stores could not be full, when carried across such tumultuous seas.

So please, my vixen, accept these words. It is imperative that you do. I need you to feel me as I feel you, so mad and drunk in love. You feed my soul, and drive me mad. You keep me sane but I am crazy about you, and it is 'oh so sweet!' to be.

Well it feels like I am the King of Spain and you are my sacred land. I travel by ships across the globe, claiming new lands in your holy name. This is the declaration. Gather all ye to hear:

This land, Australia is hereby tendered to She. It is Hers to keep and do as She pleases, and She commands your servitude.

I am waiting here with humble chariot to take you on your tour - The tour of your newest achievement, your new territory. I am waiting here forever in love and in honour of your Excellency. You are Queen and I am a pretend King. But you teach me love, and wear my ring, and my thoughts are bells, each one ringing loud for you. I love your Kingdom, Regina SNC, and I want to bear your flag, escorting you in chariot to each of your conquered lands. I am by your side until I your Empire falls. And only if I die in love, will I have given you all I can.

Until then, I give you my all. I give you everything.

I love you and I love our Play, each and every Act.

Guten Abend, Leading Lady, I am your Leading Man.

-Monsieur