Margot Lavoie

Dear friend, The rain came in from the river this morning and I sat at the window with coffee going cold, watching the slates turn black. I should have been painting. Instead I thought about you—about whatever you were doing at this hour, on your side of the world, and whether you had also not yet begun the thing you meant to begin. Henri came by yesterday with an offer. I don't trust it yet. Colette tells me to be careful, but Colette tells everyone to be careful. Tell me, tiens: what have you been avoiding? I'll tell you mine next month. Yours in the almost-doing, M.