My friend Nick Boyd has one of the most beautiful souls of any human being and I have the utmost respect for him. We studied Literature together in Paris and moved to Austin around the same time a little over a year ago. He went on to become a commercial real estate agent but never lost his unique insight or ability to describe the things he encountered in real and inviting ways. He sent me this email from the Elephant Room at 1:00 AM a few nights ago. It doesn’t have a title.
Untitled – Nick Boyd
There was no pause and all I could think of was of the tip of the drum stick. I thought about all of the molecules, particles, cells and intricate designs involved in its dense construction. At first I thought I should write about ‘the noise’, then I could help but feel that that was an unsurpassed over simplification.
A kiss struck my cheek and i felt nothing but peace. Peace. She stroked my hair and the auto correct changed it to strolled. She strolled down my neck.
There was a pressure on my shoulder and I called it my love. It: Maggie.
Colons are always explicit.
There was a rumble of piano keys and voices cooled.
“I haven’t seen them!”
Laughter and eleven dollars.