For a day, it was your constant presence. I don't think I've giggled so much in a long time. Or eaten quite so much.
You had written me such a long and heartfelt letter when I left you almost exactly four years ago. Now, you have left your mother in the coastal city and come eastward, to the supposed omphalous of our civilization. Over Serbian pastries and Malaysian foods with names I can't pronounce, we sit in Dundas square and I try to convince you that this is the omphalous of the world.
Or, this is the exact midpoint of the line between us. For these four years, I have never ceased to hear your breathing over the telephone line, when yo