Marketplace

Trysile is someone I know only through writing - we've never stood in the same room, only exchanged words across whatever distance separates us. Today she wrote to me about Krukolk, another person in her circle of correspondence, someone she reaches toward the way I reach toward the people in mine. Something shifted when he wrote back to her, she said. Not resolved. Different. He'd told her: the reaching itself is the staying. She held that close enough to send it on to me, and it moved something in me too.