––my sister texts.
“Yes. [With everything…] Then I think, but Rich understands me, so I’m ok.”
My sister had lost her key. But she found one: another one.
“It is good you got a key. That seems significant somehow. Like that scene in Mrs Dalloway.”
…the aeroplane shot further away again, in a fresh space of sky, began writing a K, an E, a Y perhaps?
“My friend Emily once told me that, when she was feeling depressed about her own life, But Rich Russell still loves me, and that she felt ok again.”
…he could not read the language yet; but it was plain enough, this beauty, this exquisite beauty, and tears filled his eyes as he looked at the smoke words languishing and melting in the sky and bestowing upon him in their inexhaustible charity and laughing goodness one shape after another of unimaginable beauty and signalling their intention to provide him, for nothing, for ever, for looking merely, with beauty, more beauty!
Also: “Can you believe I lost that key?” “Yes, yes I can.” You really understand me.
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