A letter from September 10th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, Heeeey. You felt really bad when you wrote this. I know it’s super hard, coming back to life after your mother died. Your friends are gone or firefighting. Winter is coming. Your home country is having election panic attacks, and you... you have no home. But I want to remind you: you have a home—in me. No matter what, I’m happy to be here with you in this little blink of a life. Please go out and see and do. And if you can’t go out, make something and share it. And don’t dwell too long on the epic unfairness of it all—shit has always been unfair. What matters is you haven’t been shot down yet and many experiences await you. I sincerely hope you feel better than I do, that your feeling more even keeled. You have tried so hard to come so far. In the end it does matter. To me. To us. Do your yoga. Remember that everything changes and passes and that the fields will bloom again. You just have to wait it out. I love you