Oddly enough, I knew when it was first mentioned that the letter you were writing was to me. My dreams are becoming rather... focused. If I do make it out there this weekend (most likely Sunday night) would you be willing to talk for a while? I've something I don't think any ear but yours would hear, understand, and accept. My home here is a comfort, but... ehh. Much like some of those late-night walks through dark streets, right now the sort of comfort I need isn't something most of the world can, or would be willing to, give.

And a new song flows through my head... "Stormy" by Holly Mcnarland. I came across this one courtesy of Puppy; I don't know if he understood just how much of an impression it was likely to make on me. Quiet, oddly soothing, and so very, very accurate in ways that most days I won't even admit.

Amazing how fast moods can change when the rest of the world is sleeping or silent.