“If I could only touch you and create a ripple in all you know,” said the book.
This particular book has created tidal waves right down to my very core, right down to my atomic level.
It has been a particularly beautiful, sometimes painful, occasionally heartbreaking, and a distinctly life- and attitude-changing read that has made me reassess my past and probe the dusty chambers of my heart. The book has the prime location in my bookcases. I will turn to it again and again in years to come. But for now, the last pages flicker in an autumnal breeze as the final chapter dwindles to its last words.
I … love … you.
What if I’ve always known? If at the tender age of 10, I had already felt you in the ebb and flow of the ocean and knew, unequivocally, that I’d love you despite the many suns that would abandon themselves into the ocean with tired hope. I have always loved you, from afar, from within, from the apogee of all the things I’ve ever wished for. And so I’ll set afloat this pale confession in hopes that I’ll arrive at your feet, “somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me.”
nostrificate v. to accept as one’s own
“Like it or not, Lotty, I have nostrificated you. There’s no escape. And when you move to England and leave behind Voldemort to play with his wand, I shall prove it to you.”
nimptopsical a. drunk
“I am nimptopsical with love for you, Héloïse.”
anagapesis n. lack of interest in former loved ones
“Darling, I know you are now in a wondrous state of anagapesis. Indeed, I know that you have shuffled off his mortal coil and are free of him. What dreams may come should not trouble you for they are only ghostly remnants of him and his shade can’t hurt you in dreams or in life, not ever again.”
interosculate v. to kiss (poetically licensed)
“Come here, Lotty my beloved. Let’s interosculate all afternoon.”
intemerate a. undefiled
“Come along Lotty, my Darling; let us go and frolic ‘neath the lascivious oaks. It’s been a while and I’m concerned that you’re becoming intemerate.”
I spent yesterday riding through the already dusty roads, sunlight dancing in the hedges, Wiltshire’s fluffy grasses moving in the soft warm breezes as though invisible beings were running through them, laughing. Smiles shone everywhere.
Even in all of that beauty, every moment was brushed with thoughts of you, thousands of miles away. And that distance made the sun seem a little less bright for one person. The person riding through the already dusty roads.
intercolline a. between hills
“Lotty, my bathycolpian beauty, I do love running my fingertips over your soft skin just there. It feels most intercolline.”
inguinal a. pertaining to or near the groin
“Whenever I see that photo of your delectable brassiere, Lotty darling, I find my hand becomes inguinal.”
I told her in an email, across more than 4000 miles of grey ocean: “I was just washing up and I’d swear to God, if he existed, that you came up behind me and kissed my neck. Fucking goose-pimples everywhere and the hairs on my arms electrocuted.”
She replied: “It was me.”