![]() ![]() It’s clear to me now that I have been moving toward you and you toward me for a long time. Maybe not profoundly happy, maybe a little lonely, but at least content. A few weeks ago, I felt self-contained, reasonably content. Somehow the old truck brought me home, yet I barely remember the miles going by. I’m not even sure how I got back here from Iowa. I begin work on an article, and I’m writing about you. I look down the barrel of a lens, and you’re at the end of it. That’s why I wrote the little piece, “Falling from Dimension Z,” I have enclosed, as a way of trying to sift through my confusion. I ask myself over and over, “What happened to me in Madison County, Iowa?” And I struggle to bring it together. I sit here trolling the gray areas of my mind for every detail, every moment, of our time together. ![]() ![]() The other is of Roseman Bridge before I removed your note tacked to it. One is the shot I took of you in the pasture at sunrise. “SeptemDear Francesca, Enclosed are two photographs. ![]()
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