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Thursday, 9 July 2015

From Bristol to Bristol

Hello

You don’t know me but The Ordeal suggested I contact you because we have something in common which is our name.

The Ordeal said that you might be able to help me or at least write back to me or send me a sign or something. I don’t know about that, really. The Ordeal sometimes has big ideas and says things that I can’t fathom. Maybe you know what I mean.

So. A little bit about me.

I am a very small part of the state of Louisiana
Louisiana – the state with the most beautiful name, in my opinion
You may think I am biased
You may well be correct

I am situated between a duck and a diamond
I have a straight line running through the bottom of my heart
My beginning and my end are ambiguous to outsiders
Because there aren’t any signs to where I am
Nor are there any signs when I am
But I know that I am because I feel it
I feel it when there is weather
And when there is a commotion of birds or wasps
And when there are bells ringing in Church Point
And whispers of melodies from the bar
And when insiders lie down in my meadows and love each other
I feel all of those things
I hope you believe it
But I would understand if you didn’t
Because sometimes I don’t believe it myself

It says somewhere that I am a populated place
But other times, it says somewhere that I am nothing at all. But I don’t know about that, really.

I feel that more and more these days; that I am nothing at all. I can’t explain it very easily but let me try to embelish a little by writing a list of the words or phrases that are making me have this feeling:

Season
Whereabouts
343
Bosco
The Tree
The Other Tree
Rice
You might have noticed that I stopped writing the list before finishing it because The Feeling started to come really, really strong. Maybe you know what I mean.

The Ordeal told me that we should be in contact because of these feelings I’ve been having. The nothing at all feelings. I don’t know if I should tell you or if you will be interested but sometimes the nothing at all feeling is so potent that I feel unable to see. I cloud over. I fold in. I stick to the sides of myself. The air around me dies. The colours go away. I miss… I miss… I don’t know what.

Maybe you will write back to me. Maybe you won’t. Either way, The Ordeal said that the act of writing this down might help me to feel better. But I don’t know about that really.

Yours in hope,

Bristol, Louisiana.

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