process

I said,

What if one day again we have a life where we see each other outside of the computer-phone and its applications?

Tonight I made hummus by fork out of chick peas cooked over a wood fire.

She said,

Rachel you are such a wonderful storyteller.

I said,

So far my manuscript is eighteen pages and that’s just from transcribing about seven days of texting with you and four days of texting with Darwin.

It’s sort of a big mess, but I am trying to remember your words, or the broader implication of them.

The mess doesn’t matter now, even if it means I have to look at myself writing in the STUPID WRONG FONT.

The form is informed by the process.