It's not really Horace that makes me wonder, it is Martial, I swear. Part III.

If I had known that two days kill cheap journalists in practically no
time, I would have probably let them go. Screaming is a synonym of
being complacent. Drying your hair in public is the same as licking
blood of a papercut and smiling about it.
I like getting lost in the city, and trying to walk down all the
suspicious alleys, hopeing something would never happen, although it
could.
How is the eyeshadow going, how are those worhtless little bobby pins
doing in your hair? Have you tried stuffing them in somebody's nose
yet?
I think I would. I think when we were asleep one night, there was a
thunderstorm, and it made me like white wine over red.
I miss my guitar, and something to play. I think that there is no
value in sleeping past noon, but I do it anyway, until I can't close
my eyes anymore.
I miss the sounds of disagreement. I miss the gloves thrown at my face
and the invitations to the duel. But I will find them here too,
perhaps at a meetingplace.

Love,
~M.

Response by Claire Shefchik:

My accomplishment for today is discovering the cheapest package deal for a heartbreak weekend. Why have I begun to conduct my life without breathing when I'm between itineraries? I like layovers, and for once I'm actually going to find you in a place I didn't invent yesterday. Cable cars should replace taxis in all instances, and I hope you agree that sleeping on the floor of a Roman hostel is preferable to jumping into Lake Tahoe without a noseplug. Where should we meet? Like Canada, in a place with generic rocks and trees, capable of being painted red, or more likely purple as you wish.

What am particularly reminicsing about right now is the way you used to get me the hell out of here, to touch trees and wade through bogs full of drowning mayflies. Most of the time I would have preferred Ballycastle, or failing that, the Painted Desert. But everything can be portrayed accurately by a good slap of kid leather.

You aren't eating too many porkpies, are you? Because that would be something I cannot endorse, especially when they're overbaked. And just to warn you, you won't be able to find corn syrup anywhere.

Love,
~C.