Dear…

https://www.britannica.com/plant/Rosaceae

Members of Rosaceae are generally woody plants, mostly shrubs or small to medium-size trees

Dear Rosie,
I know it is some time since we last spoke. I can’t honestly remember whether I thought it possible to be a friend without being distracted. So I will hope that this mail is received while you are well and if not that it might provide a little cheer if anything.

I can tell a story or two about my escapades, but I hope you would indulge me to do so; it would be polite of me to ask and even more polite to wait for an answer, but as you may have gathered, sometimes I am prone to a rather rhetorical manner of writing and it makes me impatient for the point as I hope you will be too by now.

So, I will say that about a week and a half before my birthday I went searching for an old old friend. I thought I could kind of jump back in time or create a parallel dimension or something along those lines, simply by believing or following signs I thought she had been capable of laying out for me somehow.

I found myself revisiting symbolic sites, trying to perform rituals I had no knowledge of how to complete, seeing people behave in ways my mind was able to read like a new script with characters whose roles I might begin to fathom. My work was burdened by the extra processing I was feeding through the inputs available to my mind, switching channels while trying to retain the core message.

I felt that seven balls was achievable, especially if I were to concentrate on methodically exercising in the leadup to Amsterdam and the European Juggling Convention. So there was that plus the feeling that I was chasing a moving, living target with a short timeframe available in which to communicate; minutes if not seconds before we had to step into a new reality and deal with it.
The kid in me hoped “together” but I was also questioning the extent to which human lives do ever develop in that way. Is it by mutual agreement? I had previously read a novel called ‘Wilful Disregard’ which communicated something about that kind of subject matter I think, so I kind of felt prepared.
She wasn’t in the car park, which I exited, but This was part of a plan, however diabolical it must have seemed. 

I was timing things now, listening out for knowks and posting information, byte by byte through keyholes, letterboxes, windowpanes. I read signage and picked out letter by letter, colours and directions bit by bit. Red for robin’s red breast in the wintertime might accompany a directed swoosh, so that was ticked off a mental framework.
Back to the drawing board, where the opticians were shut as was Esquires cafe. 
This point must call for creative thinking.

I thought to myself as the winks and stares of passers by indicated “he’s far too unsubtle, how can he be doing things this way?”
And yet, I pressed on driven by no more stimulus than my reward centres nudging and jostling and celebrating something scratched at, picked away. Was this the sight of another layer?

I felt someone comment on my performance at work, explaining that the work despite the volume and eventual finish had many flaws and as a result I would have much to do to make up for it.
The pool hall with the 8 balls was also shut, but there were 2 doors and a puzzle which was unlocked by viewing the answer to the right question. So why two doors? It surely wouldn’t be so simple, something should be left to do. Now I’ve left work for the day, mail and letter cages could be opened. Were there any buzzers or bells? Both doors were locked. But there were inhabitants. Did they speak with the knowledge that I was there? I knocked and knocked and listened. And listening, I heard something conditional. I had to leave. no time to think…

—-=~~~~~=—-

I guess i must have had a “breakdown” at some point. But during that time, that day at least or before, i remember asking my boss about whether with whatever i was going through on a personal level my fears for my work output, no, not just my work output, my ability to truly help customers had been severely compromised along with the most serious questions about my mental capacity and whether these things on the whole were entirely justifiable.
I recall now that she said something that seemed most useful at the time, though it reminded me of a theory of diseased trees. 

”When you enter the building,” she would say, “what I can suggest is that whatever you are going through outside, you will have left in a box before you set out for work. That way your head can remain clear and you can do what needs to be done at work.”

It seemed to me as if she intimated that she had had challenges reconciling personal and work personas, at one stage at least but to me I had a lot of area to cover in such a stalwart as she seemed, to work out exactly what could have been so I figured she did a pretty cool thing in allowing me to take her at her word.
But anyway it seems as if I’m nearly digressing. The breakdown and reassimilation happened far later and required my falling from a roof and fracturing my arm and my pelvis (first part). I am able to explain this further, but perhaps at another time.
One thing I did intend to ask dear Rosie. I hope you don’t mind that i put down these words, i thought perhaps it would feel a little less lonely this way. Does this act in itself seem selfish to you?
The second part i guess i can try to write when it is not quarter to two in the morning and I am a little less tired.

Please let me know if I have overstepped the mark.
Sincerely, faithful only to my most ______
Dearest…

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