Foto: Home East Village, 2010Its Tuesday night 10:00pm. New Month began.
February of year 2010.
My skin is still itchy and I didn't have dinner yet.
Just some chips.
I liked the Tostitos with lime taste that you had home. I think I went to buy the same chips this afternoon because of my desire to taste again the idea that I am still at your home spending some more time together. But I am not there. And you are not here.
So I write to you a letter.
I keep it all personal.
Thank you for the word of advice.
Le livre “Sexual Politics; La politique du Male” e le livre A.D. ont une place speciale a ma biblioteque. Obviously, I don’t have a library in my small East Village studio apartment but your books have a special place now in my heart. Thank you for the rare edition in French.
It seems like I got my job back at the Greek Salad Maker's place as you called it. I will take you there one night for some calamari.
Our conversation got interrupted when I asked you who was the person who broke your heart. We have to get a nice bottle of ouzo as I promised you to talk about that girl.
I will explain you also about my greek heart. Mother once told me that my heart is big like a Kafeneio (coffee place in Greek); it holds the secrets of many loves but also many sorrows.
And all that you said about Simone De Beauvoir...
Did she ever write to you a letter?
Its late now. I will make a smoked salmon sandwich for dinner. And then I will take my pill.
Love,
Garia August
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