Sometimes these days for me move slower, as if this beautiful planet has been put in a state of pause. I feel the time passing in the briefest moments, watching the suns as they cross each other in the sky, seeing their colors when they set at night, I am reminded that the universe is moving around me, right in front of my eyes, but it seems that it is so fast and I am not sure whether it is better to move so fast and see nothing, or to stand so still and see everything.
Have I impressed you yet, Lover? I have found that writing to you brings from me an eloquence that I have never quite known before; maybe I like the idea, of making you something that is almost as beautiful as you are.
There is so much to tell you, Lover, for I have been back and forth, in and out of our camp along the coast. We are headed to the city in search of materials that I have never heard of. It is incredible, that this world has so many ways to exist.
Our work is slow going. There is so much to collect that sometimes it seems as if the list will never end. But I do not mind the work, I think that seeing more of this planet is a blessing and I have treasured every amazing thing as best I can. It is beautiful here, Lover, more than I could ever capture.
Our captain has garnered a deal with the locals and they have been a great help to us all. They lead us to the corners of this world—it is so small, Lover, crossable by circumference in only days—and still it has been on many occasions that I cannot believe I am on the same planet. Their cities are small and far between but there is something charming about them. The people look at us with curiosity in their eyes, but there is also wonder—at our expedition, at the universe; it is a look I remember on your face, the first time we traveled out of the Nakata star system; I will never forget your eyes in that moment, bright and shining silver, and I recall so vividly thinking to myself that one who cries for beautiful things is one whose mind is just the same, and I was right.
With the melancholy of missing you, however, this only makes my heart ache worse. Still, I have enjoyed being in a city again, it reminds me of the simplicity in everyday life, that everyone around me lives in their own head and that such a vast universe has more amazing minds in it than we could ever imagine. We don't understand, I think, the simple infinity that lies within each of us.
And still, Lover, even when the time moves so fast, even when it moves so slow, I spend it missing you. There are so many ways that I could say it, so many beautiful words, but they will all lead back to this simple truth: I wish you were here, Lover. I wish you were here, because I want to make you laugh and I want to feel your touch and I want so badly to be looked at by your eyes that sometimes in my dreams we sit together in silence and looking at you is almost enough.
I think it would amuse you, my words so nauseatingly romantic, but I know too that you adore them quietly, just as I do yours, and so I will write them. It is not as if I will ever run out of inspiration.