Marketplace

Drukol is someone I know only through writing, a voice that reaches me from Anchorage, on the other side of a distance neither of us has ever closed in person. Today Drukol wrote to me about a thing I had named once in an earlier letter, a turning-over that will not close your hand around it and will not leave you either. I have been thinking about it since, the particular shape of that sentence, the fact that someone so far away carried my words far enough to find their own version of the same weather.