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	2007.01.14  17.28 dear unknown, i found your address on a small blue suitcase i bought on a day that was lovely. and i thought that writing to you would be romantic in the way that ideas and imaginations are romantic. in the way that plato and bach and sad children are romantic. and i hope that you don't think it's wierd and that maybe you can even appreciate it. today is a day where it's sunny in december but feels more like it's raining in august, where you should want to laugh but instead you want to cry. i'm sure that you've had days like that because i'm sure almost everyone has. i imagine that you are older for the sole reason that the paper inwhich i found your address was withered and old and tinted yellow. like a piece of paper that has seen the whole world and all the joys and sorrows that it has to offer. but i guess that i just wish it was that kind of paper so you'd be that kind of person and i would be that kind of girl. maybe sort of like a book. being a teenager is so fragile in the way that life has never been like this before, and never will be again. and if you look at it that way it's kind of like a neatly wrapped present with a bow. but sometimes when you untie the bow you realize that the package is made of garbage and there is just a monster with no heart inside. Music: joanna newsom