Expatriette in...

I'm trying to read this book and it's such a marvel(l)ous one, even you know it is. We've read it so many times. But, my eyes are so tired and the words look too beautiful. I kept seeing them and now I can't stop looking at them. Each letter reminds me of a curve or angle in this city from the skylines, streets or roofs. I think it happens enough, but she probably would say its happened 2 or 3 too many times. My memory is so foggy. I'm not quite sure what is mine or how much I've given up or gained. 2 is my favorite even number and of course we live with 3's everyday, but it is the weirdest kind of pressure to endure and I feel it specifically on this one bone in the middle of my chest. It feels lighter when I float in the dead sea. I live in this city with certain people by the lake in a delicate house and there are certain beautiful things that only they can see. Especially in light of my little sister who is so innocent but not at all naive, I can't help but see transparent scales and feel fleetingly balanced. JD Salinger has started to live in a nook in the nape of my neck. Though he is brilliantly cloudy, he is the kind of gentleman who wears a hat and an overcoat too often- I would say. & When Franny wrote back to Lane, she did so in illustrated sorts of ways. I totally love her to pieces.