good morning, karin. i'm writing as if you are here reading this without a body, without eyes, or with the eyes of your spirit. as if consciousness has volition and memory and direction after the body dissolves. maybe it's just me talking to myself via the memory of you. you used to come here to this virtual corresponding place to find me sometimes. i like to think of that, and since i didn't know when then, i like to think i don't know when now. maybe now. today is the day of your memorial, and i may not go where it is being held, rather i thought, would you meet me down there, on the island, with the birders and the birds singing, where we used to meet? will you meet us with breezes in our hair and birdsong in our ears? i may not know, my head full of unslept sleep, i may just imagine you there alive as my memory of you.