Dear Stranger,
I don’t know you. You don’t know me. All we know is what the glowy boxes tell us. I saw you. You saw me. Or did we see anything at all? We touched. We didn’t touch at all. We connected. All while far far away. What does this mean?
A thread of moonlight spans the distance ‘tween us, yet delicately. Won’t you throw another loop around me? Won’t I loop you in return? The glowing net we weave could grow and become. A string, a ladder, a blanket, a sweater- a home but right now it’s not. Two or three threads, whispy light and fragrant insubstantial. Part of the general pattern of it all. I have threads and strings and ladders and blankets and homes.
Who are you? Which are you?