Play — April 16, 2017 — love
(a letter found in the ruins of a forgotten culture, where museums were commonplace)
I hope this message finds you well. We haven’t met. I saw you across the way, talking with your friend, and felt attracted to you immediately. I couldn’t think of any obvious reason to be attracted, so I decided to investigate.
(source) After you left, I approached your friend, and asked about you. I learned that you often say you always wanted to be a painter, but never tried. I learned, also, that you were born on the day the solar monument was finished. I was born when the lunar monument burned down.
The more I learned, the more I wanted to know. I asked to see pictures of you.
I’m beginning to understand that you are beautiful.
I haven’t proposed this sort of experiment before. Please forgive my awkwardness. I didn’t expect this to happen so soon, and so I was lazy about preparing for it. Now that I know you exist, I realize I need to work.
(source) I would be honored and grateful to do this work with you, if you can find the time and the will to welcome me into your world. If you want to meet me, I’m painting every morning in the plaza. I’m the one wearing the yellow hat and the once-white suspenders.
Will you be my muse?