I LIKE THIS kind of friendship that we are forming. It is both old and new. It’s that kind of fondness that seems rediscovered. A clingy friendship. Cliquish, even.  It’s old, but it has fire as if it is new. It’s like the old familiar smell of a recently purchased book. It’s warm, deep, funny, chaotic, random, and it’s not heavy. It has no rules, we have no obligations. We are not bound by anything except our past. We don’t aim to preserve, we just simply do. You see, I can run and fly with you, and I think you can dash and soar with me.

* This is an edited version of a diary entry of the same date.