Point Reyes

Yesterday my friend Isobel and I went on a soul-nurturing jaunt to Point Reyes in Marin County, where we basked in the sun and wind and talked about art and life and wrote a message in a bottle and cast it out to sea.

My Dearest Filbertine, 
It has been three months since our torrid night off the coast of Point Reyes. I can still hear your wild cries echoing through the chambers of my heart. They torture me in those quiet moments between waking and seep, when I dream I can still feel your pearly alabaster skin on mine. I can only hope that the swarthy stranger who swept you into the seas (on a boat) is worthy of your tender embrace. 

May he and his tin-can of an apparatus (I'm talking about the boat again) be plundered* like the way you both plundered my heart. If you ever want to retrieve the skimpy underthing which you so brazenly left in my possession, I will be awaiting your arrival with equal parts lust and resentment. 
Just sound the foghorn three times before approaching the lighthouse. 


Your ever-loving
(and also resentful)
Hamilton Sedgwick III, Esq.