Wednesday, November 23, 2011


It’s funny with all the things that people write about love that they never compare love to Pequot Percales sheets, a gift of sleeping luxury that is silky soft, cool and lovely, available in snowy white or soft pastels. Their firm even weave resists rumpling, and they keep their lovely refreshing, clean crispness longer than anything else in the universe and even though everyone loves them, still no one ever compares them to love.

Because love is not pastel. Love is white but not like snow. Love is made of silk so it can’t be silky because silk is silk not silky. Love is cool but then hot and sometimes mild like the Spring or that one day in Winter. Rumpling sounds like Charlotte Rampling. Love is not a luxury it is a right. Love refreshes but so does whiskey when it is cool and lovely. Nothing that is firm is love. Love is soft and firm but somehow soft. I know. It’s hard. I think I understand. Or I am trying to. I will. I promise.

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