Hey, hello, good evening

In praise of the late night phone call. One voice meeting another across a sleepless town, or across the sea, from one city to another. The essence of two lives intertwining. It's something lost during daytime interactions: that softeness, or the closeness you can remember hearing when you used to stretch string between two tin cans, or when somebody cupped their palms around your ear before whispering a secret. There's nothing at stake, no reason for such calls. And this is what makes them beautiful, essential, an overlooked form of loving. Right now, I picture two open windows, a new moon, a fire-escape, some newly open tulips, the flicker of a television set, and the feeling that two people out there in the big wide world are sharing the same sky, sharing the same moment even though they're in two different places.