I am listening to soul music again, as if I have fallen in love. It is a temperate thing - comes about every spring. I only want to roll my car windows down and feel the sensuality of the wind on my skin while Marvin Gaye spits his soul into my mouth. It is as if I’m falling in love with an imaginary lover, designed by frequency, named by wind, a place of refuge late at night when we’re alone and going deep, and steady. I wonder who you are, and if you feel this way in another corner of the world. For I wish it to be real, if only, in the moment of realness it feels even half as good as this - alone.