so i waited to do this, though i wanted to immediately after i got your fabulous letter when i got home. i wanted to write that whole week but i let it sit, let it settle and enjoyed the time in a quiet ocotal. i wanted to write last week when i looked around at some of your favorite things. the flowering bush in the church courtyard, the liliac copycats just past fritanga hermosa and the hilly neighbourhood to the right of the school.

i wanted, while you were here to beg you to to stay, to promise things i couldnt deliver and just hope that you were going to stay.

i wanted you to have my email address, because you have my mailing address.

i wanted to wait. i want to write you a novel, an essay, a poem or a short story about how much i want you to be here still and how empty the streets are and how much less english i speak and how there are pages in my journal that just get filled up with stuff i know we could of talked about.

i want to ask about ome about puerto rico about where ever you are right now. if you got on the ferry in one piece or if you had to dash off to rivas, and how you dealt with your unsustainable travelling set up. i dashed back to ocotal the next day because i realized that i just wanted a few hours to be alone and settle and not to galvanting across nica by myself during the week in which everyone is drunk and everything is closed. dhyana laughed when she saw me walking up the street the next day because she was sure that the travelling was a coping mechanism.

ocotal is the same as you left it, your family is fine, your brother is delivering juice and yasser has forgotten all about you.

so, where and how are you? what are your next plans?

we just learned the subjunctive and yeah, dont worry ive got notes for you but its a punk.

escribame.